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THE NEW YORK
PUBLIC LIBRARY
ASTOR, LFNOX
TILDEN FOUNDATIONS
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PELHAM
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A.DVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN
SIB EDWARD BULWER LYTTON, BART.
Jl 8UI8 PEV sfviftS, MAIS BAOl—
PBILOSOPHE, MAIS AMOUREVX^
Moir ART EST BE ME RENDRS HEUKEUZ.
J'T RiuSSIS — EN PAUT-n. D'ADYANTAeB?*'
'A OOMPLEn GEHTLEMAN, WDO, ACOORDINO TO SIR POPUITO, OUOBT TO
WELL, DAROS WELL, PENCE WELL, HAVE A GENIUS POB LOYK-LETTIM^
AMD AM AGREEABLE VOIOB POR A QRAXBZK," — IXher^fe.
COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME.
• a >i m u* •> '' -f *> •
PHILADELPHIA
J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO.
188^.
THE NEW YORK
PUBLIC LIBRARY
TILDEN FOUNDATIONS
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PREFACE
TO
THE EDITION OF 1828.*
I BELIEVE if we were to question every author
upon the subject of his literacy grievances, we should
find that the most frequent of all complaints, was less
that of being unappreciated, than that of being mis-
understood. All of us write perhaps with some secret
object, for which the world cares not a straw : and
while each reader fixes his peculiar moral upon a
book, no one, by any chance, hits upon that which
the author had in his own heart designed to inculcate.
Hence this Edition of " Pelham " acquires that ap-
pendage in the shape of an explanatory preface which
the unprescient benevolence of the author did not
inflict on his readers when he first confided his work
to their candor and discretion. Even so, some Can-
didate for Parliamentary Honors first braves the
hustings ; — relying only on the general congeniality
of sentiment between himself and the Electors — but
* Viz., the Second Edition.
1* (▼)
v! PBEFAOETOTHE
aLos ! once chosen, the liberal confidence, which look
him upon trust is no more, and when he reappears
to commend himself to the popular sufeage, he is
required to go into the ill-bred egotisms of detail —
and explain all that he has done and all that he has
failed to do, to the satisfaction of an enlightened but
too inquisitive constituency.
It is a beautiful part in the economy of this world,
that nothing is without its use ; every weed in the
great thoroughfares of life has a honey, which Obser-
vation can easily extract; and we may glean no
unimportant wisdom from Folly itself, if we distin-
guish while we survey, and satirize while we share
it. It is in this belief that these volumes have their
origin. I have not been willing that even the com-
mon-places of society should afford neither a record
nor a moral ; and it is therefore fron; the common-
places of society that the materials of this novel have
been wrought. By treating trifles naturally, they
may be rendered amusing, and that which adherence
to Nature renders amusing, the same cause also may
render instructive : for Nature is the source of all
morals, and the enchanted well, from which not a
single drop can be taken, that has not the power of
curing some of our diseases.
I have drawn for the hero of my Work; such a
person as seemed to me best fitted to retail the opixi-
EDITION OF 1828. yil
Ions and customs of the class and age to which he
belongs; a personal combination of antithases — a
fop and a philosopher, a voluptuary and a moralist
— a trifler in appearance, but rather one to whom
trifles are instructive, than one to whom trifles are
natural — an Aristippus on a limited scale, accus-
tomed to draw sage conclusions from the follies he
•
adopts, and while professing himself a votary of
Pleasure, desirous in reality to become a disciple of
Wisdom. Such a character I have found it more
difficult to portray than to conceive : I have found it
more difficult still, because I have with it nothing in
common,* except the taste for observation, and some
experience in the scenes among which it has been
cast ; and it will readily be supposed that it is no
easy matter to survey occurrences the most familiar
through a vision, as it were, essentially and perpetu-
ally different from that through which oneself has
been accustomed to view them. This difficulty in
execution will perhaps be my excuse in failure ; and
* I regret extremely that by this remark I should be necessitated
to relinquish the flattering character I have for so many months
borne, and to undeceive not a few of my most indulgent critics,
who in reviewing my work have literally considered the Author
and the Hero one flesh. "We have only," said one of them, **to
complain of the Author's egotisms ; he is perpetually talking of
himself!" — Poor, gentleman I from the first page to the last, the
Author never utters a syllable. — [The few marginal notes in which
Ihfe Author himself speaks, were not added till the present Edition.]
VUl FEEFACE TO THE
some additional indulgence may be reasonably granted
to an author who has rarely found in the egotisms of
his hero a vent for his own.
With the generality of those into whose hands a
novel upon manners is likely to fall, the hghter and
less obvious the method in which reflection is con-
veyed, the greater is its chance to be received without
distaste and remembered without aversion. This will
be an excuse, perhaps, for the appearance of frivolities
not indulged for the sake of the frivolity ; under that
which has most the semblance of levity I have often
been the most diligent in my endeavors to inculcate
the substances of truth. The shallowest stream,
whose bed every passenger imagines he surveys, may
deposit some golden grains on the plain through
which it flows ; and we may weave flowers not only
into an idle garland, but, like the thyrsus of the
ancients, over a sacred weapon.
It now only remains for me to add my hope that
this edition will present the "adventures of a gen-
tleman " in a less ihiperfect shape than the last, and
in the words of the erudite and memorable Joshua
Barnes,* " So to begin my intended discourse, if not
altogether true, yet not wholly vain, nor perhaps
deficient in what may exhilarate a witty fancy, or
inform a bad moralist."
THE AUTHOR.
OctoUr, 1828.
* In the Preface to his Gerania.
PREFACE
TO
THE EDITION OP 1840.*
The holiday time of life, in wliicli this novel was
written, while accounting, perhaps in a certain gaiety
of tone, for the popularity it has received, may per-
haps also excuse, in some measure, its more evident
deficiencies and faults. Although I trust the time
has passed when it might seem necessary to protest
against those critical assumptions which so long con-
founded the author with the hero; — although I
equally trust that, even were such assumptions true,
it would be scarcely necessary to dispute the justice
of visiting upon later and more sobered life, the
supposed foibles and levities of that thoughtless age
of eighteen, in which this fiction was first begun,- -
yet, perhaps, some short sketch of the origin of a
work, however idle, the success of which determined
the literary career of the author, may not be consid-
ered altogether presumptuous or irrevelant.
^hile, yet, then a boy in years, but with some
experience of the world, which I entered prematurely,
* Vii., in the first collected edition of the Auth Vs prose works.
(5x)
X PBEFACE TO THB
I had the good fortune to be confined to my room by
a severe illness, towards the end of a London season.
All my friends were out of town, and I was left to
such resources as solitude can suggest to the tedium
of sickness. T amused myself by writing with incred-
ible difficulty and lahor (for till then prose was a
country almost as unknown to myself as to Monsieur
Jourdain) some half a dozen tales and sketches.
Among them was a story called " Mortimer, or the
Memoirs of a Gentleman." Its commencement was
almost word for word the same as that of " Pelham ; "
but the design was exactly opposite to that of the
latter and later work. "Mortimer" was intended
to' show the manner in which the world deteriorates
its votary, and "Pelham," on the contrary, conveys
the newer, and, I believe, sounder moral, of showing
how a man of sense can subject the usages of the
world to himself instead of being conquered by them,
and gradually grow wise by the very foibles of his
youth. .
This tale, with the sketches written at the same
period, was sent anonymously to a celebrated pub-
lisher, who considered the volume of too slight a
nature for separate publication, and recommended
me to select the best of the papers for a magazine.
I was not at that time much inclined to a periodical
mode of publishing, and thought no more of what,
if * nugce to the reader, had indeed been diffidles to
the author. Soon afterwards I went abroad. On my
return I sent a collection of letters to Mr. Colburn
* Nugoif trifles; diffieilet, difficult.
EPITION OF 1840. JU
for publication, which, for various reasons, I after-
wards worked up into a fiction, and which (greatly
altered from their original form) are now known to
the public under the name of " Falkland."
While correcting the sheets of that tale for the
press, I was made aware of many of its faults. But
it was not till it had been fairly before the public
that I was sensible of its greatest ; namely, a sombre
coloring in Ufe, and the indulgence of a vein of sen-
timent, which, though common enough to all very
young minds in their first bitter experience of the
disappointments of the world, had certainly ceased
to be new in its expression, and had never been true
in its philosophy.
The effect which the composition of that work
produced upon my mind, was exactly similar to that
which (if I may reverently quote so illustrious an
example) Goethe informs us the writing of " Werter "
produced upon his own. I had rid my bosom of its
"perilous stuff," — I had confessed my sins, and was
absolved, — I could return to real life and its whole-
»o ne objects. Encouraged by the reception which
*' Falkland" met with, flattering though not brilliant,
I resolved to undertake a new and more important
fiction. I had long been impressed with the truth
of an observation of Madame de Stael, that a char-
acter at once gay and sentimental is always successful
on the stage. I resolved to attempt a similar character
for a novel, making the sentiment, however, infinitely
less prominent than the gaiety. My boyish attempt
of the " Memoirs of a Gentleman " occured to me,
Xii PBEFAOE TO THE
and I resolved upon this foundation to build my fiction.
After a little consideration I determined, however, to
enlarge and ennoble the original character : the char-
acter itself, of the clever man of the world corrupted
hy the world, was not new; it had already been
represented by Mackenzie, by Moore in " Zeluco," and
in some measure by the master-genius of Richardson
itself, in the incomparable portraiture of Lovelace.
The moral to be derived from such a creation seemed
to me also equivocal and dubious. It is a moral of a
gloomy and hopeless school. We live in the world ;
the great majority of us, in a state of civilization,
must, more or less, he men of the world. It struck
me that it would be a new, an useful, and perhaps a
happy moral, to show in what manner we might
redeem and brighten the common-places of life ; to
prove (what is really the fact) that the lessons of
society do not necessarily corrupt, and that we may
be both men of the world, and even, to a certain
degree, men of pleasure, aud yet be something wiser
— nobler — better. With this idea I formed in my
mind the character of Pelham ; revolving its qualities
long and seriously before I attempted to describe them
on paper. For the formation of my story, I studied
with no slight attention the great works of my pre-
decessors, and attempted to derive from that study
certain rules and canons to serve me as a guide ; and,
if some of my younger contemporaries whom I could
name would only condescend to take the same pre-
liminary pains that I did, I am sure that the result
would be much more brilliant. It often h^^ppene to
JEDITION or 1840. Xiil
me to be consulted by persons about to attempi fiction,
and I invariably find that they imagine they have
only to sit down and write. They forget that art
does not come by inspiration, and that the novelist,
dealing constantly with contrast and eflect, must, in
the widest and deepest sense of the word, study to
be an artist. They paint pictures for Posterity with-
out having learned to draw.
Pew critics have, hitherto, sufficiently considered,
and none', perhaps, have accurately defined, the pecu-
liar characteristics of prose fiction in its distinct
schools and multiform varieties : — of the two principal
species, the Narrative and Dramatic, I chose for
"Pelham" my models in the former; and when it
was objected, at the first appearance of that work,
that the plot was not carried on through every inci-
dent and every scene, the critics, evidently confounded
the two classes of fiction I have referred to, and asked
from a work in one what ought only to be the attri-
butes of a work in the other : the dazzling celebrity
of Scott, who deals almost solely with the dramatic
species of fiction, made them forgetful of the examples,
equally illustrious, in the narrative form of romance,
to be found in Smollett, in Fielding, and Le Sage.
Perhaps, indeed, there is in '*Pelham" more of plot
and of continued interest, and less of those incidents
that do not either bring out the character of the hero,
or conduce to the catastrophe, than the narrative
order may be said to require, or than is warranted
by the great examples I have ventured to name.
After due preparation, I commenced and finished
I. — 2
XIT PREFACB TO THB
the first volume of " Pelham." Various circumstancoa
then suspended my labors, till several months after-
wards I found myself quietly buried in the country,
and with so much leisure on my hands, that I was
driven, almost in self-defence from ennui, to continue
and conclude my attempt.
It may serve perhaps to stimulate the courage and
sustain the hopes of otlers to remark, that *'tbe
Reader" to whom the MS. was submitted by the
publisher, pronounced the most unfavorable and dam-
ning opinion upon its chances of success, — an opinion
fortunately reversed by Mr. Oilier, the able and
ingenious author of " Inesilla," to whom it was then
referred. The book was published, and I may add,
that for about two months it appeared in a fair way
of perishing prematurely in its cradle. With the
exception of two most flattering and generously-
indulgent notices in the " Literary Gazette " and the
" Examiner," and a very encouraging and friendly
criticism in the "Atlas," it was received by the critics
with indifference or abuse. They mistook its purport,
and translated its satire literally. But about the
third month it rose rapidly into the favor it has since
continued to maintain. Whether it answered all the
objects it attempted I cannot pretend to say; one at
least I imagine that it did answer : I think, above
most works, it contributed to put an end to the Sa-
tanic mania, — to turn the thoughts and ambition of
young gentlemen without .neckcloths, and young
clerks who were sallow, from playirg the Corsair,
anc? boasting that they were villains. If, tnistaking
EDITION OV 18^0. X9
the irony of Pelham, they went to the extreme of
emulating the foibles which that hero attributes to
himself — those were foibles at least more harmless,
and even more manly and noble, than the conceit of
a general detestation of mankind, or the vanity* of
storming our pity by lamentations over imaginary
sorrows, and sombre hints at the fatal burthen of
inexpiable crimes.*
Such was the history of a publication, which if
not actually my first, was the one whose fate was
alwavs intended to decide me whether to conclude or
continue my attempts a^ an author.
I can repeat, unaffectedly, that I have indulged this
egotism, not only as a gratification to that common
curiosity which is felt by all relative to the early
works of an author, who, whatever be his faults and
demerits, has once obtained the popular ear ; — but
also as affording, perhaps, the following lessons to
younger writers of less experience but of more genius
than myself. First, in attempting fiction, it may
serve to show the use of a critical study of its rules,
for to that study I owe every success in literature I
have obtained ; and in the mere art of composition,
if I have now obtained to even too rapid a facility, I
must own that that facility has been purchased by a
most laborious slowness in the first commencement,
and a resolute refusal to write a second sentence until
* Sir Reginald Glanville was drawn purposely of the would-be
Byron School as a foil to Pelham. For one who would think of
imitatlzag the first, ten thou&and would be unawares attracted to the
last.
XVI PREP AOE TO THE
I had expressed my meaning in the best manner 1
could in the first. And, secondly, it may prove the
very little value of those "cheers," of the want of
which Sir Egerton Brydges* so feelingly complains,
and which he considers so necessary towards the
obtaining for an author, no matter what his talents,
his proper share of popularity. I knew not a single
critic, and scarcely a single author, when I began to
write. I have never received to this day a single
word of encouragement from any of those writers
who were considered at one time the dispensers of
reputation. Long after my name was not quite
unknown in every other country where English liter-
ature is received, the great quarterly journals of my
own disdained to recognize my existence. Let no
man cry out then " for cheers," or for literary patron-
age, and let those aspirants, who are often now pleased
to write to me, lamenting their want of interest and
their non-acquaintance with critics, learn from the
author (insignificant though he be) who addresses
them in sympathy and fellowship, — that a man's
labors are his best patrons, — that the public is the
only critic that has no interest and no motive in under-
rating him, — that the world of an author is a mighty
circle of which enmity and envy can penetrate but a
petty segment, and that the pride of carving with
our own hands our own name is worth all the " cheers"
in the world. Long live Sidney's gallant and lofty
motto, ^'Aut viam inveniam autfaciain/**'f
* In the melancholy and painful pages of his autobiography.
f I will either find a way or make it
ADVERTISEMENT
TO
THE PRESENT EDITION
No ! — you cannot guess, my dear reader, how long
my pen has rested over the virgin surface of this
paper, before even that " No," which now stands out
BO bluffly and manfully, took heart and stept forth.
If, peradventure, thou shouldst, 0 reader, be that
rarity in these days — a reader who has never been
an author — thou canst form no conception of the
strange aspect which the first page of a premeditated
composition will often present to the curious investi-
gator into the initials of things. There is a sad
mania now-a-days for collecting autographs- — would
that some such collector would devote his researches
to the first pages of auctorial manuscripts ! He would
then form some idea of the felicitous significance of
that idiomatic phrase, *' to cudgel the brains I " — Out
nf what grotesque zigzags, and fantastic arabesques,
2* B • (xvii)
Sriil ADVERTISEMENT TO THE
— out of what irrelevant, dreamy illustrations from
the sister art, — ^houses, and trees, and profile sketches
of men, nightmares, and chimeras — out of what
massacres of whole lines, prematurely and timidly
ventured forth as forlorn hopes, — would he see the
first intelligible words creep into actual life — shy
streaks of light, emerging from the chaos ! For that
rash promise of mine, that each work ir this edition
of works so numerous, shaU have its own new and
special Preface, seems to me hard, in this instance,
to fulfil. Another Preface ! what for ? Two Prefaces
to "Pelham" already exist, wherein all that I would
say is said ! And in going back through that long
and crowded interval of twenty years, since the first
appearance of this work, — what shadows rise to
beckon me away through the glades and alleys in that
dim labyrinth of the Past! Infant Hopes, scarce
born ere fated, poor innocents, to die — gazing upon
me with reproachful eyes, as if I myself had been
their unfeeling butcher; — audacious Enterprises
boldly begun, to cease in abrupt whim, or chiUing
doubt — looking now through the mists, zoophital or
amphibious, like those borderers on the animal and
vegetable life, which flash on us with the seeming
flutter of a wing, to subside away into rooted stems
and withering leaves. How can I escape the phantom
throng ? How return to the starting-post, and recall
the ardent emotions with which youth sprung forth
to the goal ? To write fitting Preface to this work,
which, if not my first, was the first which won ao
PRESENT EDITION. xU
audience and secured a reader, I must myself become
a phantom, with the phantom crowd. It is the ghost
of my youth that I must call up. What we are,
alone hath flesh' and blood — what we have been, like
the what wq shall be, is an idea ; and no more } An
idea how dim and impalpable! This our sense of
identity, this " I " of ours, which is the single thread
that continues from first to last — single thread that
binds flowers changed every day, and withered every
night — how thin and meagre is it of itself — how
difficult to lay hold of ! When we say " I remember "
how vague a sentiment we utter 1 how difierent it is
to say " Ifeel/" And when in this effort of memory
we travel back all the shadow-land of years — when
we say " I remember," what is it we retain, but some
poor solitary fibre in the airy mesh of that old gossa-
mer, which floated between earth and heaven — ^moist
with the dews and sparkling in the dawn ? — Some
one incident, some one affection we recall, but not all
the associations that surrounded it, all the companions
of the brain or the heart, with which it formed one
of the harmonious contemporaneous ring. Scarcely
even have we traced and seized one fine filament in
the broken web, ere it is lost again. ,In the inextri-
cable confusion of old ideas, many that seem of the
time we seek to grasp again, but were not so, seize
and distract us. From the clear effort we sink into
the vague reverie ; the Present hastens to reeall and
dash us onward, and few, leaving the actual world
around them when they say " I remember " do not
IX ADVERTISEMENT TO THE
wake as from a dream, with a baffled sigh, and mur*
mur " No, I forget." And therefore, if a new Preface
to a work written twenty years ago, should contain
some elucidation of the aims and objects with which
it was composed, or convey some idea of the writer's
mind at that time, my pen might well rest long over
the blank page ; — and houses and trees, and profile
sketches of men, nightmares and chimeras, and whole
passages scrawled and erased, might well illustrate
the barren travail of one who sits down to say " I
remember I "
What changes in the outer world since this book
was written ! What changes of thrones and dynas-
ties I Through what cycles of hope and fear has a
generation gone ! And in that inner world of Thought
what old ideas have returned to claim the royalty of
new ones! What new ones (new ones then) have
receded out of sight, in the ebb and flow of the human
mind, which, whatever the cant phrase may imply,
advances in no direct steadfast progress, but gains
here to lose there ; — a tide, not a march. So, too,
in that slight surface of either world, " the manners,"
superficies alike of the action and the thought of an
age, the ploughshares of twenty years have turned
np a new soil.
The popular changes in .the Constitution have
brought the several classes more intimately into con-
nection with each other ; most of the old affectations
of fashion and exclusiveness are out of date. Wo
have not talked of equality, like our neighbors tho
PRESENT EDITION. ZXi
French, but insensibly and naturally, the tone of
manners has admitted much of the frankness of the
principle, without the unnecessary rudeness of the
pretence. I am not old enough yet to be among the
indiscriminate praisers of the past, and therefore I
recognize cheerfully an extraordinary improvement
in the intellectual and moral features of the English
world, since I first entered it as an observer. There
is a far greater earnestness of purpose, a higher cul-
ture, more generous and genial views, amongst the
young men of the rising generation than were common
in the last. The old divisions of party politics remain ;
but among all divisions there is greater desire of
identification with the people. Eank is more sensible
of its responsibilities. Property of its duties. Amongst
the clergy of all sects, the improvement in zeal, in
education, in active care for their flocks, is strikingly
noticeable; the middle class have become more in-
structed and refined, and yet, (while fused with the
highest in their intellectual tendencies, reading the
same books, cultivating the same accomplishments) —
they have extended their sympathies more largely
amongst the humblest. And, in our towns especially,
what advances have been made amongst the operative
population I I do not here refer to that branch of
cultivati^iL which comprises the questions that belong
to political inquiry, but to the general growth of more
refined and less polemical knowledge. Cheap books
have come in vogue as a fashion during the last
twenty years — books addressed, not as cheap books
XlXl ADVERTI8BMENT TO THB
were ouce, to the passions, but to the understanding
and the taste — books not written down to the sup-
posed level of uninformed and humble readers, but
such books as refine the gentleman and instruct the
scholar. The arts of design have been more appre-
ciated— the Beautiful has been admitted into the
pursuits of labor as a principle — Eeligion has been
regaining the ground it lost in the latter half of the
last century. What is technically called education
(education of the school and the schoolmaster), has
made less progres§^ than it might. But that inexpres-
sible diffusion of oral information which is the only
culture the old Athenians knew, and which in the
ready transmission of ideas, travels like light from
lip to lip, has been insensibly educating the adult
generation. In spite of all the dangers that menace
the advance of the present century, I am convinced
that classes amongst us are far more united than they
were in the latter years of George the Fourth. A
vast mass of discontent exists amongst the operatives,
it is true, and Chartism is but one of its symptoms ;
yet that that discontent is more obvious than formerly,
is a proof that men's eyes and men's ears are moi'e
open to acknowledge its existence — to examine and
listen to its causes. Thinking persons now occupy
themselves with that great reality — the People; and
questions concerning their social welfare, their health,
their education, their interests, their rights, which
philosophers alone entertained twenty years ago, are
now on the lips of practical men, and in the hearts
PRESENT EDITION. ZXilJ
of all. It is this greater earnestness — this profounder
gravity of purpose and of view, which forms tho
most cheering characteristic of the present time ; and
though that time has its peculiar faults and vices, thifl
is not the place to enlarge on them. I have done,
»nd may yet do so, elsewhere. This work is the
picture of manners in certain classes of society twenty
years ago, and in that respect I believe it to be true
and faithful. Nor the less so, that under the frivol-
ities of the hero, it is easy to recognize the substance
of those more serious and solid qualities which Time
has educed from the generation and the class he
represents. Mr. Pelham studying Mills on Govern-
ment and the Political Economists, was thought by
some an incongruity in character at the day in which
Mr. Pelham first appeared — the truth of that con-
ception is apparent now, at least to the observant.
The fine gentlemen of that day were preparing them-
selves for the after things, which were already fore-
shadowed; and some of those, then best known in
clubs and drawing-rooms, have been since foremost
and boldest, nor least instructed, in the great struggles
of public life.
I trust that this work may now be read without
prejudice from the silly error that long sought to
identify the author with the hero.
Earely indeed, if ever, can we detect the real
likeness of an author of fiction in any single one of
his creations. He may live in each of them, but
only for the time. He migrates into a new form with
XSIY ADVERTISEMENT TO PRISSBNT EDITION.
e^ery new character he creates. He may have in
himsdf a quality, here and there, in common with
each, but others so widely onposite, as to destroy all
the resemblance you fancy for a moment you have
discovered. However this be, the author has the
advantage over his work — that the last remains
stationary, with its faults or merits, and the former
has the power to improve. The one remains the index
of its day — the other advances with the century.
That in a book written in extreme youth, there may
be much that I would not write now in mature man-
hood, is obvious; that in spite of its defects, the
work should have retained to this day the popularity
it enjoyed in the first six months of its birth, is the
best apology that can be made for its defects.
B. Bk I«»
Lovwntf 1848.
PELHAM;
OB,
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN.
^^^^<^^>VWW^'^^^>>^<^^»^'^^^X^^V>^^»*«»^W
CHAPTER I.
V>tl peat-on dtre mieuz qu*au sein de sa famille? * — French Sonp,
I AM an only child. My father was the younger son of
one of our oldest earls, my mother the dowerless daughtei
of a Scotch peer. Mr. Pelham was a moderate whig, and
gave sumptuous dinners ; — Lady Frances was a woman
of taste, and particularly fond of diamonds and old china.
Vulgar people know nothing of the necessaries required
in good society, and the credit they give is as short as
their pedigree. Six years after my birth, there was an
execution in our house. My mother was just setting off
on a visit to the Duchess of D ; she declared it was
impossible to go without her diamonds. The chief of the
bailiffs declared it was impossible to trust them out of his
sight. The matter was compromised — the bailiff went
* Where can one be better than in the bosom of one's family ?
I.— 3 (''■)
26 pelham; OB,
with my mother to C , and was introduced as my tidor
"A man of singular merit," whispered my mother, "bu:
80 shy I " Fortunately, the bailiff was abashed, and by
losing his impudence he kept the secret. At the end of
the week, the diamonds went to the jeweller's, and Lady
Frances wore paste.
I think it was about a month afterwards that a sixteenth
cousin left my mother twenty thousand pounds, " It will
just pay off our most importunate creditors, and equip
me for Melton," said Mr. Pelham.
" It will just redeem my diamonds, and re-furnish the
house," said Lady Frances.
The latter alternative was chosen. My father went down
to run his last horse at Newmarket, and my mother re-
ceived nine- hundred people in a Turkish tent. Both were
equally fortunate, the Greek and the Turk ; my father's
horse lost, in consequence of which he pocketed five thou-
sand pounds ; and my mother looked so charming as a
Sultana, that Seymour Conway fell desperately in love
with her.
Mr. Conway had just caused two divorces ; and of
course all the women in London were dying for him —
judge then of the pride which Lady Frances felt at hia
addresses. The end of the season was unusually dull, and
my mother, after having looked over her list of engage-
ments, and ascertained that she had none remaining worth
staying for, agreed to elope with her new lover.
The carriage was at the end of the square. My mother,
for the first time in her life, got up at six o'clock. Her
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 27
foot was on the step, and her hand next to Mr. Conway'r
heart, when she remembered that her favorite china mon-
ster, and her French dog, were left behind. She insisted
on returning — re-entered the house, and was coming down
stairs with one under each arm, when she was met by my
father and two servants. My father's valet had discovered
the flight (I forget how), and awakened his master.
When my father was convinced of his loss, ho called
for his dressing-gown — searched the garret and the kit-
chen— looked in the maid's drawers and the cellaret — and
finally declared he was distracted. I have heard that the
servants were quite melted by his grief, and I do not doubt
it in the least, for he was always celebrated for his skill in
private theatricals. He was just retiring to vent his grief
in his dressing-room, when he met my mother. It must
altogether have been an awkward encounter, and, indeed,
for my father, a remarkably unfortunate occurrence ; since
Seymour Conway was immensely rich, and the damages
would, no doubt, have been proportion ably high. Had
they met each other alone, the affair might easily have
- been settled, and Lady Frances gone off in tranquillity ;
— those confounded servants are always in the way I
I have observed that the distinguishing trait of people
accustomed to good society, is a calm, imperturbable
quiet, which pervades all their actions and habits, from
the greatest to the least : they eat in quiet, move in quiet,
live in quiet, and lose their wife, or even their money, in
quiet ; while low persons cannot take up either a spoon
28 PBLHAM; OBy
or an affront without making such an amazing noise about
it. To render this observation good, and to retam to the
intended elopement, nothing farther was said upon tha^
event. My father introduced Conway to Brookes's, at
invited him to dinner twice a week for a whole twelve
i!5:>uth.
Not long after this occurrence, by the death of my
randfather, my uncle succeeded to the title and estates
of the family. He was, as people rather justly observed,
rather an odd man : built schools for peasants, forgave
poachers, and diminished his farmers' rents ; indeed, on
account of these and similar eccentricities, he was thought
a fool by some, and a madman by others. However, he
was not quite destitute of natural feeling ; for he paid my
father's debts, and established us in the secure enjoyment
of our former splendor. But this piece of generosity, or
justice, was. done in the most unhandsome manner ; he
obtained a promise from my father to retire from whist,
and relinquish the turf; and he prevailed upon my mother
to conceive an aversion to diamonds, and an indifferenca
(o china monsters.
ADYXNTUaXS 07 A GXNTLEMAH
CHAPTER II.
Tell arts tbey haTe^o soundness,
But vary by esteeming;
Tell schools thej want profoundness,
And stand too much on seeming.
If arts and schools reply,
Give arts and schools the lie. — The SouFt En and.
At ten years old I went to Eton. I had been educated
till that period bj my mother, who, being distantly related
to Lord , (who had published "Hints upon the
Culinary Art"), imagined she possessed an hereditary
claim to literary distinction. History was her great /orie,
for she had read all the historical romances of the day ;
and history accordingly I had been carefully taught.
I think at this moment I see my mother before me, re-
clining on her sofa, and repeating to me some story about
Queen Elizabeth and Lord Essex ; then telling me, in a
languid voice, as she sank back with the exertion, of the
blessings of a literary taste, and admonishing me never to
read above half an hour at a time, for fear of losing my
health.
Well, to Eton I went ; and the second day I had been
there, I was half killed for refusing, with all the pride of
a Pelham, to^wasb tea-cups. I was rescued from the
^latches of my tyrant by a boy not much bigger than my-
self, but reckoned the best fighter, for his size, in the
^bole school His name was Reginald Olanville : from
30 pelham; ob,
that period, we became inseparable, and our friendship
lasted all the time he stayed at Eton, which was within a
year of my own departure for Cambridge.
His father was a baronet, of a very ancient and wealthy
family ; and his mother was a ^om^n of some talent and
more ambition. She made her house one of the most
attractive in London. Seldom seen at large assemblies,
she was eagerly sought after in the well-winnowed soiriea
of the elect. Her wealth, great as it was, seemed the
least prominent ingredient of her establishment. There
was in it no uncalled-for ostentaliion — no purse-proud
vulgarity — ^no cringing to great, and no patronizing con-
descension to little people ; even the Sunday newspapers
could not find fault with her, and the querulous wives of
younger brothers could only sneer and be silent.
" It is an excellent connection," said my mother, when
I told her of my friendship with Reginald Glanville, " and
will be of more use to you than many of greater apparent
consequence. Remember, my dear, that in all the friends
you make at present, you look to the advantage you can
derive from them hereafter ; that is what we call knowledge
of the world, and it is to get the knowledge of the world
that you are sent to a public school."
I think, however, to my shame, that notwithstanding
my mother's instructions, very few prudential considera-
tions were mingled with my friendship for Reginald Glan-
ville. I loved him with a warmth of attachment, which
aas since surprised even myself.
He was of a very singular character : he used to wander
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 81
by the river in the bright days of summer, when all else
were at play, without any companion but his own
thoughts ; and these were tinged, even at that early age,
with a deep and impassioned melancholy. He was so
reseryed in his manner, that it was looked upon aa cold-
ness or pride, and was repaid as such by a pretty general
dislike. Yet to those he loved, no one could be more open
and warm ; more watchful to gratify others, more indif-
ferent to gratification for himself; an utter absence of all
selfishness, and an eager and active benevolence, were
indeed the distinguishing traits of his character. I have
seen him endure with a careless good-nature the most
provoking affronts from boys much less than himself; but
if I, or any other of his immediate friends, was injured or
aggrieved, his anger was almost implacable. Although
he was of a slight frame, yet early exercise had brought
strength to his muscles, and activity to his limbs ; while
there was that in his courage and will which, despite his
reserve and unpopularity, always marked him out as a
leader in those enterprises, wherein we test as boys the
qualities which chiefly contribute to secure hereafter our
position amongst men.
Such, briefly and imperfectly sketched, was the char»
acter of Reginald Glanville — the one, who, of all my early
companions, differed the most from myself; yet the one
whom I loved the most, and the one whose futcre destiny
was the most intertwined with my own.
I was in the head class when I left Eton. As I was
reckoned an uncommonly well-educated boy, it may not
SS pelham; OB,
be nngratlfying to the admirers of the present system of
education to pause here for a moment, and recall what I
then knew. I could make fifty Latin verses in half an
hour ; I could construe, vnthout an English translation,
all the 'easy Latin authors, and many of the difficult ones
unth it: 1 could read Greek fluently, and even translate
it through the medium of the Latin version technically
called a crib.* I was thought exceedingly clever, for I
had been only eight years acquiring all this fund of in-
formation, which, as one need never recall it in the world,
you have every right to suppose that I had entirely for-
gotten before I was five-and-twenty. As I was never
taught a syllable of English during this period ; as, when
I once attempted to read Pope's poems out of school
hours, I was laughed at, and called " a sap ; " as my mo-
ther, when I went to school, renounced her own instruc-
tions ; and as, whatever school-masters may think to the
contrary, one learns nothing now-a-days by inspiration :
80 of everything which relates to English literature, Eng-
lish laws, and English history (with the exception of the
said story of Queen Elizabeth and Lord Essex), you have
the same right to suppose that I was, at the age of eigh.
teen, when I left Eton, in the profoundest ignorance.
At this age, I was transplanted to Cambridge, where
* It is but just to say that the educational system at public
schools is greatly improved since the above was written. And take
those great seminaries altogether, it may be doubted whether an^
institutions more philosophical in theory are better adapted to se-
cure that union of classical tastes with manly habits and honorable
sentiments which distinguishes the English gentleman.
^
ADYBNTUBES Ol* A QENTLEMAN. 83
I bloomed for two years in the blae and silver of a fellow
commoner of Trinity. At the end of that time (being of
royal descent) I became entitled to an honorary degree.
I suppose the term is in contradistinction to an honorable
degree, which is obtained by pale men in spectacles and
cotton stockings, after thirty-six months of intense appli«
cation.
I do not exactly remember how I spent my time at
Cambridge. I had a piano-forte in my room, and a pri-
vate billiard-room at a village two miles off; and, between
these resources, I managed to improve my mind more than
could reasonably have been expected. To say truth, the
whole place reeked with vulgarity. The men drank beer
by the gallon, and ate cheese by the hundred- weight —
wore jockey-cut coats, and talked slang — rode for wagers,
and swore when they lost — smoked in your face, and ex-
pectorated on the floor. Their proudest glory was to
drive the mail — their mightiest exploit to box with the
coachman — their most delicate amour to leer at the bar-
maid.*
It will be believed, that I felt little regret in quitting
companions of this description. I went to take leave of
•our college tutor. "Mr. Pelham," said he, affectionately
squeezing me by the hand, " your conduct has been most
exemplary ; you have not walked wantonly over the col-
lege grass-plats, nor set your dog at the proctor ^ nor
* This, at that time, was a character that could only be applied
to the gayest, that is the worst, set at the University — and perhapt
now the character may scarcely exist.
0
S4 pelham; or,
driven tandems by day, nor broken lamps by night — nor
entered the chapel in order to display your intoxication
— nor the lecture-room, in order to caricature the pro-
fessors. This is the general behavior of young men of
family and fortune ; but it has not been your's. Sir, you
have been an honor to your college."
Thus closed my academical career. He who does not
allow that it passed creditably to my teachers, profitably
to myself, and beneficially to the world, is a narrow-
minded and illiterate man, who knows nothing of the
advantages of modern education.
CHAPTER III.
Thus does a false ambition rule us,
Thus pomp delude, and folly fool us. — Siienstonb.
An open house, haunted with great resort. — Bishop Hall's Satire*,
I LEFT Cambridge in a very weak state of health ; and
as nobody had yet come to London, I accepted the in-
vitation of Sir Lionel Garrett to pay him a visit at hia
co»in try-seat. Accordingly, one raw. winter's day, full of
the hopes of the reviving influence of air and exercise, J-
found myself carefully packed up in three great-coats, an J
on the high road to Garrett Park.
Sir Lionel Garrett was a character very common in
England, and, in describing him, I describe the whole
species. He was of an ancient family, and his ancestors
had for centuries resided on their estates in Norfolk. Sir
N
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 36
Lionel, who came to his majority and his fortune at the
same time, went up to London at the age of twenty-one,
a raw, uncouth sort of yoang man, with a green coat and
lank hair. His friends in town were of that set whose
members are above ton, whenever they do not grasp at
its possession, but who, whenever they do, lose at onco
their aim and their equilibrium, and fall immeasurably
below it. I mean that set which I call ^*the respectable,^'
consisting of old peers of an old school ; country gentle-
men, who still disdain not to love their wine and to hate
the French ; generals who have served in the army ; elder
brothers who succeed to something besides a mortgage ;
and younger brothers who do not mistake their capital
for their income. To this set you may add the whole of
the baronetage — for I have remarked that baronets hang
together like bees or Scotchmen ; and if I go to a baro-
net's house, and speak to some one whom I have not the
happiness to know, I always say ** Sir JohnP'
It was no wonder, then, that to this set belonged Sir
Lionel Garrett — no more the youth with a green coat
and lank hair, but pinched in, and curled out — abounding
in horses and whiskers — dancing all night — lounging all
day — the favorite of the old ladies, the Philander of the
young.
One unfortunate evening Sir Lionel Garrett was intro-
duced to the celebrated Duchess of D. From that mo-
ment his head was turned. Before then, he had always
imagined that he was somebody — that he was Sir Lionel
Garrett, with a good-looking person and eight thousand
86 pelham; or,
a-year ; he now knew that he was nobody, unless he went
to Lady G.'s, and unless he bowed to Lady S. Disdain-
ing all importance derived from himself, it became abso-
lutely necessary to his happiness, that all his importance
should be derived solely from his acquaintance with others.
lie cared not a straw that he was a man of fortune, of
family, of consequence ; he must be a man of ton ; or he
was an atom, a. nonentity, a very worm, aad no man. No
lawyer at Gray's Inn, no galley-siave at the oar, ever
worked so hard at his task as Sir Lionel Garrett at his.
Ton, to a single man, is a thing obtainable enough. Sir
Lionel was just gaining the envied distinction, when he
saw, courted, and married Lady Harriet Woodstock.
His new wife was of a modern and not very rich family,
and striving like Sir Lionel for the notoriety of fashion ;
but of this struggle he was ignorant. He saw her ad^
mitted into good society — he imagined she commanded
it ; she was a hanger-on — he believed she was a leader.
Lady Harriet was crafty and twenty-four — had no objec-
tion to be married, nor to change the name of Woodstock
for Garrett. She kept up the baronet's mistake till it was
too late to repair it.
Mnrriage did not bring Sir Lionel wisdom. His wife
was of the same turn of mind as himself: they might have
been great people in the country — they preferred being
little people in town. They might have chosen friends
among persons of respectability and rank — they preferred
being chosen as acquaintance by persons of ton. Society
was their being's end and aim, and the only thing which
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 31
brought them pleasure was the pain of attaining it. Did
I not say truly that I would describe individuals of a
common species ? Is there one who reads this, who does
net recognize that overflowing class of our population,
whose members would conceive it an insult to be lhou|;ht
of sufficient rank to be respectable for what they are ? - -
who take it as an honor that they are made by their ac*
quaintance ? — who renounce the ease of living for them-
selves, for the trouble of living for persons who care not
a pin for their existence — who are wretched if they are
not dictated to by others — and who toil, groan, travail,
through the whole course of life, in order to forfeit their
independence ?
I arrived at Garrett Park just time enough to dress for
dinner. As I was descending the stairs after having
performed that ceremony, I heard my own name pro-
nounced by a very soft, lisping voice — " Henry Pelham I
dear, what a pretty name. Is he handsome ? "
"Rather elegant than handsome," was the unsatis-
factory reply, couched in a slow, pompous accent, which
I immediately recognized to belong to Lady Harriet
Garrett
" Can we make something of him ? " resumed the first
Toice,
" Something 1 " said Lady Harriet, indignantly ; " ht
will be Lord Glenmorris 1 and he is son to Lady Frances
Pelham."
"Ah," said the lisper, carelessly; "but can he write
poc:ry, and play proverbesf^^
L — 4
38 pelham; or.
" No, Lady Harriet," said I, advancing ; " but permit
me, through you, to assure Lady Nelthorpe that he can
admire those who do."
" So you know me then ? " said the lisper : ** I see wo
tall be excellent friends ; " and, disengaging herself from
Lady Harriet, she taok my arm, and began discussing
persons and things, poetry and china, French plays and
music, till I found myself beside her at dinner, and most
assiduously endeavoring to silence her by the superior
engrossments of a bechamelle de poisson.
I took the opportunity of the pause, to survey the little
circle of which Lady Harriet was the centre. In the
first place, there was Mr. Davison, a great political econ-
omist, a short, dark, corpulent gentleman, with a quiet,
serene, sleepy countenance ; beside him was a quick, sharp
little woman, all sparkle and bustle, glancing a small, grey,
prying eye round the table, with a most restless activity :
this, as Lady Nelthorpe afterwards informed me, was a
Miss Traflford, an excellent person for a Christmas in the
country, whom everybody was dying to have : she was an
admirable mimic, an admirable actress, and an admirable
reciter ; made poetry and shoes, and told fortunes by the
cards, which actually came true!
There was also Mr. Wormwood, the noli-me'tangere
of literary lions — an author who sowed his conversation
not with flowers but thorns. Nobody could accuse him
of the flattery generally imputed to his species : through
the course of a long and varied life, he had never onct'
been known to say a civil thing. He was too much 4i»*
ADVENTURES OF A GJENTLEMAN. 39
iiked not to be sought after ; whatever is once notorions,
even for being disagreeable, is sure to be courted. Oppo-
Bite to him sat the really clever, and affectedly pedapiiio
Lord Vincent, one of those persons who ha.^e been
"promising young men[' all their lives ; who are fonnd
till four o'clock in the afternoon in a dressing-gown, with
t quarto before them ; who go down into the country for
six weeks every session, to cram an impromptu reply;
and who always have a work in the press which is never
to be published.
Lady Nelthorpe herself I had frequently seen. She
had some reputation for talent, was exceedingly affected,
wrote poetry in albums, ridiculed her husband, (who was
a fox-hunter,) and had a particular taste for the fine arts.
There were four or five others of the unknown vulgar,
young brothers, who were good shots and bad matches ;
elderly ladies, who lived in Baker- street, and liked long
whist ; and young ones, who never took wine, and said
*'Sirr'
I must, however, among this number, except the beau-
tiful Lady Boseville, the most fascinating woman, perhaps,
nf the day. She was evidently the great person there,
and, indeed, among all people who paid due deference tc
ton, was always sure to be so everywhere. I have never
seen but one person more beautiful. Her eyes were of
the deepest blue ; her complexion of the most delicate
carnation ; her hair of the richest auburn : nor could even
Mr. Wormwood detect the smallest fault in the rounded
yet slender symmetry of her figure.
^ 40
pelham; OB,
\ -A Ithougb not above twenty-five, she was in that 8tat«
^-^_ in which alone a woman ceases to be a dependant —
wid^Qwhood. Lord Roseville, who had been dead about
two yeats^had not survived their marriage many months ;
that period was, however, sufficiently long to allow him
to appreciate her excellence, and to testify his sense of it i
the whole of his unentailed property, which was very
large, he bequeathed to her.
She was very fond of the society of literary persons,
though without the pretence of belonging to their order.
But her manners constituted her chief attraction : while
they were utterly different from those of every one else,
you could not, in the least minutise, discover in what the
difference consisted : this is, in my opinion, the real test
of perfect breeding. While you are enchanted with the
effect, it should possess so little prominency and peculiarity,
that you should never be able to guess the cause.
" Fray," said Lord Vincent to Mr. Wormwood, " hare
you been to P this year?"
" No," was the answer.
" I have," said Miss Trafford, who never lost an oppor-
tunity of slipping in a word.
" Well, and did they make you sleep, as usual, at the
Crown, with the same eternal excuse, after having brought
you fifty miles from town, of small house — no beds — all
engaged — inn close by ? Ah, never shall I forget that
inn, with its royal name, and its hard beds —
* Uneasy sleeps a head beneath the Crown ! **
'Ha, ha I Excellent I" cried Miss Trafford, who was
ADYENTUBES 07 A GENTLEMAN. 4)
always the first in at the death of a pun. " Yes, indee^l
they did : poor old Lord Belton, with his rheumatism ; .
and that immense General Grant, with his asthma ; to-
gether with three 'single men,' and myself, were safely
conveyed to that asylum for the destitule."
"Ah I Grant, Grant I " said Lord Vincent, eagerly, who
saw another opportunity of whipping in a pun "He
slept there also the same night I did ; and when I saw
his unwieldy person waddling out of the door the next
morning, I said to Temple, ' Well, thcU^s the largest Orani
I ever saw from the Crown. ' " *
''Very good," said Wormwood, gravely. "I declare,
Vincent, you are growing quite witty. You know Jekyl,
of course I Poor fellow, what a really good punster he
WCL8 — not agreeable though — particularly at dinner —
no punsters are. Mr. Davison, what is that dish next to
you ? "
Mr. Davison was a great gourmand : " Salmi de per-
dreaux aux truffes,^^ replied the political economist
" Truffles !" said Wormwood, "have you been eating
any ? "
" Yes," said Davison, with unusual energy, " and they
are the best I have tasted for a long time."
" Very likely," said Wormwood, with a dejected air.
" I am particularly fond of them, but I dare not touch
one — truffles are so very apoplectic — you, I make no
doubt, may eat them in safety."
* It was from Mr. J. Smith that Lord Vincent purloined this pun.
4*
4S PELHA.M; 0&,
Wormwood was a tall, meagre man, with a neck a yard
long. Davison was, as I have said, short and fat, and
made without any apparent neck at all — only head and
shoulders, like a codfish.
Poor Mr. Davison turned perfectly white ; hB fidgeted
about in his chair ; cast a look of the most deadly fear
and aversion at the fatal dish he had been so attentive to
before ; and, muttering " apoplectic I " closed his lips,
and did not open them again all dinner-time.
Mr. Wormwood's object was effected. Two people
were silenced and uncomfortable, and a sort of mist hung
over the spirits of the whole party. The dinner went on
dnd off, and like all other dinners ; the ladies retired, and
the men drank, and talked politics. Mr. Davison left the
room first, in order to look out the word " truffle," in the
Encyclopaedia ; and Lord Vincent and I went next, " lest
(as my companion characteristically observed) that d — ^— d
Wormwood should, if we stayed a moment loDger, ' send
ns weeping to oar beds.'"
ADYSNTUBSS Of A GENTLEMAN. 48
CHAPTER IV.
Ob I la belle chose que la Poste ! * — Lettrea de SivignS.
Ay — but who is it? — As you like it,
I HAD mentioned to mj mother mj intended visit to
Qarrett Park, and the second day after my arrival there
came the following letter : —
"My deab. Henry,
" I was very glad to hear you were rather better th*
you had been. I trust you will take great care of yourself.
I think flannel waistcoats might be advisable ; and, by-
the-by, they are very good for the complexion. Apropos
of the complexion : I did not like that blue coat you wore
when I last saw you — you look best in black — which is
a great compliment, for people must be very distinguished
in appearance, in order to do so.
" You know, my dear, that those Garretts are in them-
selves anything but unexceptionable ; you will, therefore,
take care not to be too intimate ; it is, however, a very
good house : most whom you meet there are worth know-
ing, for one thing or the other. Remember, Henry, that
the acquaintance {not the friends) of second or third-rate
people are always sure to be good : they are not inde-
pendent enough to receive whom they like — their whole
rank is in their guests : you may be also sure that the
♦ Oh I what a beautiful thing is — the Post-office.
44 pelham; OB,
manage will, in outward appearance at least, be quite comnie
ilfaut, and for the same reason. Gain as much knowledge
de Vart culinaire as you can : it is an accomplishment
absolutely necessary. You may also pick up a little
acquaintance with metaphysics, if you have any oppor-
tunity ; that sort of thing is a good deal talked about
just at present.
" I hear Lady Roseville is at Garrett Park. You must
be particularly attentive to her ; you will probably now
have an opportunity de faire voire cour that may never
again happen. In London, she is so much surrounded
by all, that she is quite inaccessible to one ; besides, there
you will have so many rivals. Without flattery to you,
I take it for granted, that you are the best-looking and
most agreeable person at Garrett Park, and it will, there?
fore, be a most unpardonable fault, if you do not make
Lady Koseville of the same opinion. Nothing, my dear
son, is like a liaison (quite innocent of course) with a
woman of celebrity in the world. In marriage a man
lowers a woman to his own rank ; in an affaire de coeur
he raises himself to her's. I need not, I am sure, after
what I have said, press this point any further. .
" Write to me and inform me of all your proceedings.
If you mention the people who are at Garrett Park, I can
tell you the proper line of conduct to pursue with each.
" I am sure that I need not add that I have nothing
but your real good at heart, and that I am your very
affectionate mother,
"Frances Pelhan.
ABYENTUBES OF A GENTLEMAN. 46
" P. S. Never talk much to jonng men — reipember
that it is the women who make a repatation in society."
"Well," said I, when I had read this letter, "my
mother is very right, and so now for Lady Roseville."
I went down stairs to breakfast. Miss Trafford and
Lady Nelthorpe were in the room, talking with great
interest, and, on Miss Trafford 's part with still greater
vehemence,
" So handsome," said Lady Nelthorpe, as I approached.
"Are you talking of me ? " said L
" Oh, you vanity of vanities 1 " was the answer. " No,
we were speaking of a very romantic adventure which has
happened to Miss Trafford and myself, and disputing
about the hero of it. Miss Trafford declares he is fright-
ful ; I say .that he is beautiful. Now, you know, Mr.
Pelham, as to you "
" There can be but one opinion ; — but the adventure f "
" Is this I " cried Miss Trafford, in great fright, lest
Lady Nelthorpe should, by speaking first, have the pleasure
of the narration. — " We were walking, two or three days
ago, by the sea-side, picking up shells and talking about
the * Corsair,' when a large fierce — "
" Man 1 " interrupted I.
"No, dog,^^ (renewed Miss Trafford), "flew suddenly
out of a cave, under a rock, and began growling at dear
Lady Nelthorpe and me, in the most savage manner
imaginable. He would certainly have torn us to pieces
if a very tall "
*' Not so very tall either," said Lady Nelthorpe.
16 pelham; on,
" Dear, how you interrupt one," said Miss TraflTord,
pettishly ; " well, a very short man, then, wrapped up in
a cloak "
"In a great-coat," drawled Lady Nelthorpe. Misa
Trafford went on without noticing the emendation,—
" had not, with incredible rapidity, sprung down the rock
and "
*' Called him off,''^ said Lady Nelthorpe.
" Yes, called him off," pursued Miss Trafford, looking
round for the necessary symptoms of our wonder at this
Yery extraordinary incident,
" What is the most remarkable," said Lady Nelthorpe,
*' is, that though he seemed from his dress and appearance
to be really a gentleman, he never stayed to ask if we
were alarmed or hurt — scarcely even looked, at us — ^"
("I don't wonder at that /^^ said Mr. Wormwood, who,
with Lord Vincent, had just entered the room ;)
*' — and vanished among the rocks as suddenly as he
appeared."
" Oh, you've seen that fellow, have you ? " said Lord
Vincent : " so have I, and a devilish queer-looking person
he is, —
' The balls of his broad eyes rolVd in his head,
And glared betwixt a yellow and a red ;
He looked a lion with a gloomy stare,
And o'er his eyebrows hung his matted hair.
Well remembered, and better applied — eh, Mr. PelhaiA? "
" Really," said I, " I am not able to judge of the appli*
cation, since I have not seen the hero."
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 41
"Ohl it's admirable," said Miss Trafford, "just the
description I should have given of him in prose. But
pray, where, when, and how did you see him ?"
"Your question is religiously mysterious, triajuncta in
ttno," replied Yincent; "but I will answer it with the
simplicity of a Quaker. The other evening I was coming
home from one of Sir Lionel's preserves, and had sent
the keeper on before, in order more undisturbedly to *'
" Con witticisms for dinner," said Wormwood.
" To make out the meaning of Mr. Wormwood's last
work," continued Lord Yincent. " My shortest way lay
through that church-yard about a mile hence, which is
such a lion in this ugly part of the country, because it
has three thistles and a tree. Just as I got there, I saw
a man suddenly rise from the earth, where- he appeared
to have been lying ; he stood still for a moment, and then
(evidently not perceiving me) raised his clasped hands to
heaven, and muttered some words I was not able distinctly
to hear. As I approached nearer to him, which I did
with no very pleasant sensations, a large black dog, which,
till then, had remained couchant^ sprang towards me with
a load growly
' Sonat hie de nare canina
Litera,'
as Persius has it. I was too terrified to move —
» Obstupui — steteruntque comes — '
and I should most infallibly have been converted into
dog's meat, if our mutual acquaintance had not started
48 pelham; or,
from his referie, called his dog by the very appropriate
Dame of Terror, and then, slouching his hat over his face,
passed rapidly by me, dog and all. I did not recover the
fright for an hour and a quarter. I walked — ye gods,
how I did walk 1 — no wonder, by-the-by, that I mended
my pace, for as Pliny says truly —
»* * Timor est emendator asperrimns.' " •
Mr. Wormwood had been very impatient during this
recital, preparing an attack upon Lord Yincent, when
Mr. Davison, entering suddenly, diverted the assault.
" Good heavens I " said Wormwood, dropping his roll,
" how very ill you look to-day, Mr. Davison ; face flushed
— ^veins swelled — oh, those horrid truffles I Miss Trafford,
111 trouble you for the salt."
* Most of the quotations from Latin or French authors, inters
flpersed throughout this work, will be translated for the convenience
of the general reader ; but exceptions will be made, where such
quotations (as is sometimes the case when from the mouth of Lord
Vincent) merely contain a play upon words, which are pointless,
out of the language employed, or which only iterate or illustrate,
oy a characteristic pedantry, the sentence that preoedes or followi
▲ DYENTUBES OF A GENTLEMAN. 19
CHAPTER.V.
Be she fairer than the day,
Or the flowery meads in May;
If she be not so to me,
What care I how fair she be?
Georob W1THKB8.
•It was great pity, so it was,
That Yillanous saltpetre should be digged
Oat of the bowels of the harmless earth,
Which many a good tall fellow had destroyed.
First Part of King Henry IV.
Seyebal days passed. I bad taken particular paina
ta ingratiate myself with Lady Roseville, and, so far as
common acquaintance went, I had no reason to be dis-
satisfied with my success. Anything else, I soon dis-
covered, notwithstanding my vanity, (which made no
Inconsiderable part in the composition of Henry Pelham)
j«ras quite out of the question. Her mind was wholly of
a different mould from my own. She was like a being,
not perhaps of a better, but of another world than myself :
we had not one thought or opinion in common ; we looked
upon things with * a totally different vision ; I was soon
convinced that she was of a nature exactly contrary to
what was generally believed — she was anything but the
mere mechanical woman of the world. She possessed
great sensibility, and even romance of temper, strong pas-
vions, and still stronger imagination ; but over all these
I. — 5 T,
60 pelham; or,
deeper recesses of her character, the extreme softness and
languor of her manners threw a veil which no superficial
observer could penetrate. There were times whea I could
believe that she was inwardly restless and unhappy ; but
she was too well versed in the art of concealment, to suffer
b'uch an appearance to be more than momentary.
I must own that I consoled myself very easily for my
want, in this particular instance, of that usual good for-
tune which attends me with the divine sex; the fact was,
that I had another object in pursuit. All the men at Sir
Lionel Garrett's were keen sportsmen. Now, shooting is
an amusement I was never particularly partial to. 1 n^as
first disgusted with that species of rational recreati a at
a haUuey where, instead of bagging anything, Iwoa Aearly
bagged, having been inserted, like wme in an ic«-pail^ in
a wet ditch for three hours, during which Utl^ my hat
had been twice shot at for a pheasant, and my leather
gaiters once for a hare; and to crown all, when these
several mistakes were discovered, my intended extermi-
nators, instead of apologizing for having shot at me, wei^s
quite disappointed at having missed.
Seriously, that same >hooting is a most barbarous
amusement, only fit for majors in the army, and royal
dukes, and that sort of people ; ihje mere walking is bad
enough, but embarrassing one's arms, moreover, with a
gun, and one's legs with turnip-tops, exposing oneself to
the mercy of bad shots and the atrocity of good, seems to
me only a state of painful fatigue, enlivened by the prob
ability of being killed.
ABYSNTUBES OF A QENTLBMAN. 51
This digpressioQ is meant to signify, that I nerer joined
the single men and donble Mantons that went in and off
among Sir Lionel Garrett's preserves. I used, instead, to
take long walks by myself, and found, like virtue, my own
reward, in the additional health and strength these diurnal
exertions produced me.
One morning, chance threw into my way a bonne for^
tune, which I took care to improve. From that time the
family of a Farmer Sinclair (one of Sir Lionel's tenants)
was alarmed by strange and supernatural noises : one
apartment in especial, occupied by a female member of
the honseholdy.was allowed, even by the clerk of the parish,
a very bold man, and a bit of a sceptic, to be haunted ;
the windows of that chamber were wpnt to open and shut,
thin airy voices confabulate therein, and dark shapes hover
thereout, long after the fair occupant had, with the rest
of the family, retired to repose. But the most unaccount-
able thing was the fatality which attended me, and seemed
to mark me out for an untimely death. /, who had so
carefully kept out of the way of gunpowder as a sports-
man, very narrowly escaped being twice shot as a ghost.
This was but a poor reward for a walk more than, a mile
long, in nights by no means of cloudless climes and starry
skies; accordingly I resolved to ''give up the ghost ^' in
earnest rather than in metaphor, and to pay my last visit
aad adieus to th« mansion of Farmer Sinclair. The night
on which I executed this resolve, was rather memorable
in my future history.
The rain had fallen so heavily during the day, as to
63 pelham; ob,
render the road to the house almost impassable, and when
it was time to leave, I inquired with very considerable
emotion, whether there was not an easier way to return,.
The answer was satisfactory, and my last nocturnal visit
at Farmer Sinclair's concluded.
CHAPTER TI.
Why sleeps he not, when others are ftt restT — Btron.
According to the explanation I had received, the road
I was now to pursue was somewhat longer, but much
better, than that which I generally took. It was to lead
me home through the church-yard of , the same, by-
the-by, which Lord Yincent had particularized in his
anecdote of the mysterious stranger. The night was
clear, but windy : there were a few light clouds passing
rapidly over the moon, which was at her full, and shone
through the frosty air, with all that cold and transparent
brightness so peculiar to our northern winters. I walked
briskly on till I came to the church-yard ; I could not then
help pausing (notwithstanding my total deficiency in all
romance) to look for a few moments at the exceeding
beauty of the scene around me. The church itself was
extremely old, and stood alone and grey, in the rude sim-
plicity of the earliest form of gothic architecture : two
large dark yew-trees drooped on each side over tombs,
which, from their size and decorations, appeared to be
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN 68
the last possession of some quondam lords of the soil.
To the left, the ground was skirted by a thick and luxn«
riant copse of evergreens, in the front of which stood one
tall, naked oak, stern and leafless, a very token of deso'la*
tion and decay ; there were but few grave-stones scattered
about, and these were, for the most part, hidden by the
long wild grass which wreathed and climbed round them.
Over all, the blue skies and still moon shed that solemn
light, the effect of which, either on the scene or the feel-
ings, it is so impossible to describe.
I was just about to renew my walk, when a tall, dark
figure, wrapped up like myself, in a large French cloak,
passed slowly along from the other side of the church,
and paused by the copse I have before mentioned. I was
shrouded at that moment from his sight by one of the yew
trees ; he stood still only for a few moments ; he then
flung himself upon the earth, and sobbed, audibly, even
at the spot where I was standing. I was in doubt whether
to wait longer or to proceed ; my way lay just by him,
and it might be dangerous to interrupt so substantial ao
apparition. However, my curiosity was excited, and m^
feet were half frozen, two cogent reasons for proceeding j
and, to say truth, I was never much frightened by any
thing dead or alive.
Accordingly I left my obscurity, and walked slowly
onwards. I had not got above three paees before the
figure arose, and stood erect and motionless before me
His hat had fallen off, and the moon shone full upon his
countenance ; it was not the wild expression of intense
5*
54 pelham; ob,
angaish which dwelt on those hneless and sanken features,
nor their qnick change to ferocity and defiance, as his eye
fell upon me, which made me start back and feel my heart
stand still ! Notwithstanding the fearful ravages graven
in. that countenance, once so brilliant with the graces of
boyhood, I recognized, at one glance, those still noble
and striking features. It was Reginald Glanville who
stood before me 1 I recovered myself instantly ; I threw
myself towards him, and called him by his name. He
turned hastily ; but I would not suffer him to escape ; I
put my hand upon his arm, and drew^ him towards me.
" Glanville 1 " I exclaimed, "it is II it is your old — old
friend, Henry Pelham. Good Heavens I have I met yoa
at last, and in such a scene ? "
Glanville shook me from him in an instant, covered his
face with his hands, and sank down with one wild cry,
which went fearfully through that still place, upon the
spot from which he had but just risen. I knelt besido
him ; I took his hand ; I spoke to him in every endearing
term that I could think of; and, roused and excited as
my feelings were, by so strange and sudden a meeting, I
felt my tears involuntarily falling over the hand which I
kieid in my own. Glanville turned ; he looked at me for
wne moment, as if fully to recognize me ; and then throw*
ng himself in my arms, wept like a child.
It was but a few minutes that this weakness lasted ; he
rose suddenly — the whole expression of his countenance
was changed — the tears still rolled in large drops down
bis cheeks, bat the proud, stern character which the fen
ADYBNTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 5ft
tnres had assamed, seemed to deny the feelings which that
feminine weakness had betrayed.
" Pelham," he said, " you have seen me thus ; I had
hoped that no living eye would — this is the last time in
which I shafl iudulge this folly. God bless you — we shall
meet again — and this night shall then seem to you like a
dream."
I would have answered, but he turned swiftlj^, passed
In one moment «hrough the copse, and in the next had
disappeared.
CHAPTER VII.
Yon reach a chilling chamber, where you dread
D&mps. — Cbabbb's Borough
I OOTJLD not sleep the whole of that night, and the next
morning I set off early, with the resolution of discovering
where Glanville had taken up his abode ; it was evident
from his having been so frequently seen, that it must be
in the immediate neighborhood.
I went first to Farmer Sinclair's ; they had often re-
marked him, but could give me no other information. I
then proceeded towards the coast; there was a small
public-house belonging to Sir Lionel close by the sea
shore ; never had I seen a more bleak and dreary prospect
than that which stretched for miles around this miserable
cabin. How an innkeeper could live there, is a mystery to
me at this day — I should have imagined it a spot uoon
56 pslham; or,
wliieh anything but a sea-gull or a Scotchman would hare
starved.
" Just the sort of place, however," thought I, " to hear
something of Glanville." I virent into the house; I in-
quired, and heard that a strange gentleman had been
lodging for the last two or three weeks at a cottage about
a mile further up the coast. Thither I bent my steps ;
and after, having met two crows, and one officer on the
preventive service, I arrived safely at my new destination.
It was a house a little better, in outward appearance,
than the wretched hut I had just left, for I observe in all
situations, and in all houses, that '' the public " is not too
well served : but the situation was equally lonely and
desolate. The house itself, which belonged to an indi-
vidual, half- fisherman and half-smuggler, stood in a sort
of bay, between two tall, rugged, black cliJBTs. Before
the door hung various nets to dry beneath the genial
warmth of a winter's sun ; and a broken boat, with its
keel uppermost, furnished an admirable habitation for a
hen and her family, who appeared to receive en pension
an old clerico-bachelor-looking raven. I cast a suspicious
glance at the last-mentioned personage, which hopped
towards me with a very hostile appearance, and entered
the threshold with a more rapid step, in consequence of
sundry apprehensions of a premeditated assault.
"I understand," said I, to an old, dried, brown female,
who looked like a resuscitated red-herring, " that a geu-
tleman is lodging here."
" No, sir," was the answer : " he left us this morning.''
ADVENTURES OF A QENTLEMAN. 57
The reply came npon me like a shower-bath ; I waa
ooth chilled and stunned by so unexpected a shock. The
old woman, on my renewing my inquiries, took me up
stairs, to a small, wretched room, to which the damps
literally clung. In one corner was a flock-bed, still un-
made, and opposite to it, a three-legged stool, a chair, and
an antique carved oak table, a donation perhaps from some
squire in the neighborhood ; on this last were scattered
fragments of writing-paper, a cracked cup half full of
ink, a pen, and a broken ramrod. As I mechanically took
up the latter, the woman said, in a charming patois, which
I shall translate, since I cannot do justice to the original :
X-" The gentleman, sir, said he came here for a few weekb
to shoot ; he brought a gun, a large dog, and a small
portmanteau. He stayed nearly a month ; he used to
spend all the mornings in the fens, though he must have
been but a poor shot, for he seldom brought home any-
thing ; and we fear, sir, that he was rather out of his
mind, for he used to go out alone at night, and stay
sometimes till morning. However, he was quite quiet,
and behaved to us like a gentleman ; so it was no business
of ours, only my husband does think — "
"Pray," interrupted I, " why did he leave you so sud-
denly ? "
*' Lord, sir, I don't know I but he told us for several
days past that he should not stay over the week, and so
we were not surprised when he left us this morning at
seven o'clock. Poor gentleman, my heart bled for him
when I saw him look so pale and ill." ^
58 pelham; ob.
And here I did see the good woman's eyes fill with
tears : but she wiped them away, and took advantage of
the additional persuasion they gave to her natural whine
to say, " If, sir, you know of any young gentleman who
likes fen-shooting, and wants a nice, pretty, quiet apart-
ment — "
"I will certainly recommend this," said I.
" You see it at present," rejoined the landlady ^ " quite
in a litter like ; but it is really a sweet place in summer. 'f
" Charming," said I, with a cold shiver, hurrying down
the stairs, with a pain in my ear, and the rheumatism in
my shoulder.
"And this," thought I, "was Glanville's residence fo^
nearly a month I I wonder he did not exhale into a vapor,
or moisten into a green damp."
I went home by the church-yard. I paused on the spot
where I had last seen him. A small grave-stone rose
above the mound of earth on which he had thrown him-
self; it was perfectly simple. The date of the year and
month (which showed that many weeks had not elapsed
since the death of the deceased) and the initials G. D.,
made the sole inscription on the stone. Beside this tomb
was one of a more pompous description, to the memory
of a Mrs. Douglas, which had with the simple tumulus
nothing in common, unless the initial letter of the surname,
corresponding with the latter initial on the neighboring
grave-stone, might authorize any connection between them,
not supported by that similitude of style usually found io
V
ABYENTTTRSS OF A GSNTLBMAN. 69
the cenotaphs of the same family : the one, indeed, might
have covered the grave of a humble villager — the other,
the resting-place of the lady of the manor.
I found, therefore, no clue for the labyrinth of surmise ;
and I went home, more vexed and disappointed with my
dfiij's expedition than I liked to acknowledge to myself.
Lord Yincent met me in the hall. '' Delighted to see
you," said he ; "I have just been to (the nearest
town), in order to discover what sort of savages abide
there. Great preparations for a ball — all the tallow
candles in the town are bespoken — and I heard a most
nncivib'zed fiddle,
' Twang short and sharp, like the shrill swallow's ory.'
The one milliner's shop was full of fat squiresses, buying
muslin ammunition, to make the ball go off; and the attics,
even at four o'clock, were thronged with rubicund damsels,
who were already, as Shakspeare says of waves in a storm^
' Curling their monstrous hea<te.' "
60 PEI.HAM; OB
CHAPTER VIII.
Jusqu'au revoir le ciel vous tienne tons en joie. *— ^Molteki.
I WAS now pretty well tired of Garret Park. Lady
Roseville was going to H , where T al&o had an invi-
tation. Lord Vincent meditated an excursion to Paris.
Mr. Davison had already departed. Miss Trafford had
been gone, God knows how long, and I was not at all dis-
posed to be left, like "the last rose of summer, "in single
blessedness at Garret Park. Vincent, Wormwood, and
myself, all agreed to leave on the same day.
The morning of our departure arrived. We sat down
to breakfast as usual. Lord Vincent's carriage was at the
door ; his groom was walking about his favorite saddle-
horse.
"A beautiful mare that is of your's," said I, carelessly
looking at it, and reaching across the table to help myself
to the pal6 de foie gras.
*' Mare I " exclaimed the incorrigible punster, delighted
with my mistake : " I thought that you would have been
better acquainted with your propia quce maribus."
"Humph I" said Wormwood, "when I look at you, I
am always at least reminded of the 'as in prcBsenti/*"
Lord Vincent drew up and looked unutterable anger
* Heaven keep you merry till we meet again.
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 61
Wormwood went on with his dry toast, and Lady Rose-
ville, who that morning had, for a wonder, come down to
breakfast, good-naturedly took off the bear. Whether or
not his ascetic natare was somewhat modified by the soft
smiles and softer voice of the beautiful countess, I cannot
pretend to say ; but he certainly entered into a conversation
with her, not much rougher than that of a less gifted
individual might have been. They talked of literature^
Lord Byron, conversaziones, and Lydia White. *
" Miss White," said Lady Roseville, " has not only the
best command of language herself, but she gives language
to other people. Dinner parties, usually so stupid, are, a
her house, quite delightful. There, I have actually seen
English people look happy, and one or two even almost
natural. '*
"Ah 1 " said Wormwood, " that is indeed rare. With
us everything is assumption. We are still exactly like the
English suitor to Portia, in the Merchant of Venice. We
take our doublet from one country, our hose from another,
and our behavior everywhere. Fashion with us is like
the man in one of Le Sage's novels, who was constantly
changing his servants, and yet had but one suit of livery,
which every new comer, whether he was tall or short, fat
or thin, was obliged to wear. We adopt manners, however
incongruous and ill suited to our nature, and thus we
always seem awkward and constrained. But Lydia White's
* Written before the death of that lady.
I— 6
G8 PELHAM; OB,
soirees are Indeed agreeable. I remember the last time I
dined there, we were six in number, and though we were
not blessed with the company of Lord Vincent, the con-
versation was withoflt Met or flaw.' Every one, even
S— — , said good things.*'
" Indeed 1 '* cried Lord Vincent, " and pray, Mr. Worm-
wood, what did you say f "
" Why," answered the poet, glancing with a significant
weer over Vincent's somewhat inelegant person, "I
thought of your lordship's figure, and said — grace I "
" Hem — hem 1 — ' Gratia malorum tarn infida est qtuim
ipsi,^ as Pliny says," muttered Lord Vincent, getting up
hastily, and buttoning his coat.
I took the opportunity of the ensuing pause to approach
Lady Roseville, and whisper my adieus. She was kind
and even warm to me in returning them ; and pressed me,
with something marvellously like sincerity, to be sure to
come and see her directly she returned to London. I soon
discharged the duties of my remaining farewells, and in
less than half an hour, was more than a mile distant from
Oarrett Park and its inhabitants. I can't say that for one
who, like myself, is fond of being made a great deal of,
there is anything very delightful in those visits into the
country. It may be all well enough for married people,
who, from the mere fact of being married, are always
entitled to certain consideration, put — for instance — into
a bed-room, a little larger than a dog-kennel, and accom-
modated with a looking-glass, that does not distort one'f
ABYENTUEX8 OF A aXBTTLEMAN. M
features like a paralytic stroke. But we single men suffer
a plurality of evils and hardships, in intrusting ourselves
to the casualties of rural hospitality. We are thrust up
into any attic repository — exposed to the mercy of rats
and the incursions of swallows. Our lavations are per-
formed in a cracked basin, and we are so far removed from
human assistance that our very bells sink into silence
before they reach half-way down the stairs. But two days
before I left Garret Park, I myself saw an enormous mouse
run away with my shaving soap, without any possible
means of resisting the aggression. Oh I the hardships of
a single man are beyond conception ; and what is worse,
the very misfortune of being single deprives one of aD
sympathy. ^'A single man can do this, and a single man
ought to do that, and a single man may be put here, and
a single man may be sent there," are maxims that I have
been in the habit of hearing constantly inculcated and
never disputed during my whole life ; and so, from our tare
and treatment being coarse in all matters, they have at
last grown to be all matters in coarse.
64 pxlbam; ob.
CHAPTER IX.
Therefore to France. — Henry IV,
I WAS rejoiced to find myself again in London. I went
to my father's house in Grosvenor-square. All the family,
viz , he and my mother, were down at H ; and despite
my aversion to the country, I thought I might venture as
far as Lady 's for a couple of days. Accordingly, to
H I went. That is really a noble house — such a hall
— such a gallery ! I found my mother in the drawing-
room, admiring the picture of his late Majesty. She was
leaning on the arm of a tall, fair young man. " Henry,''
said she (introducing me to him), " do you remember your
old school-fellow, Lord 'George Clinton?"
" Perfectly," said I (though I remembered nothing
about him), and we shook hands in the most cordial man-
ner imaginable. By the way, there is no greater bore than
being called upon to recollect men, with whom one had
been at school some ten years back. In the first place,
if they were not in one's own set, one most likely scarcely
knew them to speak to ; and, in the second place, if they
were in one's own set, they are sure to be entirely opposite
to the nature we have since acquired : for I scarcely ever
knew an instance of the companions of one's boyhood
being agreeable to the tastes of one's manhood : — a strong
ADYXNTUBES OF A QXNTLEMAN. 65
proof of the folly of people, who send their sons to Eton
and Harrow to form connections!
Clinton was on the eve of setting out upon his travels
His intention was to stay a year at Paris, and he was fall
of the blissful expectations the idea of that city had con-
jured np. We remained together all the evening, and
took a prodigions fancy to one another. Long before I
went to bed, he had perfectly inoculated me with his own
ardor for continental adventures ; and, indeed, I had half .
promised to accompany him. My mother, when I first
told her of my travelling intentions, was in despair, but
by degrees she grew reconciled to the idea.
" Your health will improve by a purer air," said she,
**and your pronunciation of French is, at present, any
thing but correct. Take care of yourself, therefore, my
dear son, and pray lose no time in engaging Coulon as
your maitre de danse.^^
My" father gave me his blessing, and a cheque on his
banker. Within three days I had arranged every thing
with Clinton, and, on the fourth, I returned with him to
London. Thence we set off to Dover — embarked — dined,
for the first time in our lives, on French ground — were
astonished to find so little difference between the two
countries, and still more so at hearing even the little
children talk French so well* — proceeded to Abbeville —
there poor Clinton fell ill : for several days we were de-
layed in that abominable town, and then Clinton, by the
* See Addison's Travels for this idea.
6» E
M felham; OB,
advice of the doctors, returned to England. I went back
with him as far as Dorer, and then, impatient at my loss
of time, took no rest, night or day, till I found myself at
Paris.
Young, well-born, tolerably good-looking, and never
utterly destitute of money, nor grudging whatever enjoy-
ment it could procure, I entered Paris with the ability and
the resolution to make the best of those' beaux jours which
80 rapidly glide from oar possession.
CHAPTER X.
Seest thou how gayly my young maister goes!
Bishop Hall's Saitrei,
Qui vit sans folie, n'est pas si sage qu*il croit.*
La Roghbfouoault.
I LOST no time in presenting my letters of introduction,
and *hey were as quickly acknowledged by invitations to
balls and dinners. Paris was full to excess, and of a bet-
ter description of English than those who usually overflow
that reservoir of the world. My first engagement was to
dine with Lord and Lady Bennington, who were among
the very few English intimate in the best French houses.
On entering Paris I had resolved to set up " a char*
acter, " for I was always of an ambitious nature, and
desirous of being distinguished from the ordinary herd.
* Who lives without folly is not so wise as he thinka.
ADYENTUBXS OF A QXHTLEMAN. 6T
After varions cogitations as to the particular one I sbonld
assume, I thought nothing appeared more likely to be
obnoxious to men, and therefore pleasing to women, than
an egregious coxcomb : accordingly, I arranged my hair
into ringlets, dressed myself with singular plainness and
simplicity (a low person, by-the*by, would have done just
the contrary), and, putting on an air of exceeding lan-
guor, made my maiden appearance at Lord Bennington's.
The party was small, and equally divided between French
and English : the former had been all emigrants, and the
conversation was chiefly in our own tongue.
I was placed, at dinner, next to Miss Paulding, an
elderly young lady, of some notoriety at Paris, very clever,
very talkative, and very conceited. A young, pale, ill-
natured looking man, sat on her left hand ; this was Mr
Aberton.
" Dear me I *' said Miss Paulding, " what a pretty chain
that is of your's, Mr. Aberton."
" Yes," said Mr. Aberton, " I know it must be pretty,
for I got it at Breguet's, with the watch." (How common
people always buy their opinions with their goods, and
regulate the height of the former by the mere price or
fashion of the latter I)
" Pray, Mr. Pelham," said Miss Paulding, turning to
me, " have you got one of Breguet's watches yet ? "
" Watch I " said I : "Jo you think / could ever wear a
watch ? I know nothing so plebeian. What can any
one. but a man of business, who has nine hours for his
tiounting-nouse and one for his dinner, ever possibly want
68 pelham; or,
to know the time for ? 'An assignation,' you will says
true, but — if a man is worth haying, he is surely worth
waiting for I "
Miss Paulding opened her eyes, and Mr. Aberton his
mouth. A pretty, lively Frenchwoman opposite (Madame
d'Anville) laughed, and immediately joined in our con-
versation, which, on my part, was, during the whole din-
ner, kept up exactly in the same strain.
Madame d'Anville was delighted, and Miss Paulding
astonished. Mr. Aberton muttered to a fat, foolish Lord
Luscombe, " What a damnation puppy I " — and every one,
even to old Madame de G s, seemed to consider me
impertinent enough to become the rage I
As for me, I was perfectly satisfied with the eflTect I had
produced, and I went away the first, in order to give the
men an opportunity of abusing me ; for whenever the men
abuse, the women, to support alike their coquetry and the
conversation, think themselves called upon to defend.
The next day I rode into the Champs Elys^es. I
always valued myself particularly upon my riding, and my
horse was both the most fiery and the most beautiful in
Paris. The first person T saw was Madame d'Anville.
At that moment I was reining in my horse, and conscious,
as the wind waved my long curls, that I was looking to
the very best advantage ; I made my horse bound towards
her carriage, (which she immediately stopped,) and made
at once my salutations and my court
** I am going,'' said she, ** to the Duchesse D 's this
evening — it is her night — do come."
ABYENTUBES OF A GENTLEMAN 69
"I don't know her," said I.
** Tell me your hotel, and I '11 send you an invitation
before dinner," rejoined Madame d'Anville.
"I lodge," said I, "at the Hotel de , Rue de
RiToli, on the second floor at 'present; next year, I suppose,
according to the usual gradations in the life of a gargon,
I shall be on the third : for here the purse and the person
seem to be playing at see-saw — the latter rises as the
former descends."
We went on conversing for about a quarter of an hour,
in which I endeavored to make the pretty Frenchwoman
believe that all the good opinion I possessed of myself the
day before, I had that morning entirely transferred to her
account.
As I rode home I met Mr. Aberton, with three or four
other men ; with that glaring good-breeding, so peculiar
to the English, he instantly directed their eyes towards me
in one mingled and concentrated stare. ** NHmporte,^^
thought I, "they must be devilish clever fellows if they
can find a single fault either in my horse or myself."
TO PKLBAII; OB,
CHAPTER XI.
Lvd I what a group the motley scene discloBes,
False wits, false wives, false virgins, and false spouses.
Goldsmith's Epilogue to the Comedy of the Sieten.
Madame D'Anville kept her promise — the invitatioa
wha duly sent, and accordingly, at half past ten, to the
Rue d'Anjou I drove.
The rooms were already fall. Lord Bennington was
standing by the door, and close by him, looking exceed-
ingly distrait, was my old friend Lord Vincent They
both came towards me at the same moment " Strive
not," thought I, looking at the stately demeanor of the
one, and the humorous expression of countenance in the
other — "strive not, Tragedy nor Comedy, to engross a
Garrick." I spoke first to Lord Bennington, for 1 knew
he would be the sooner despatched, and then for the next
quarter of an hour found myself overflowed with all the
witticisms poor Lord Yincent had for days been obliged
10 retain. I made an engagement to dine with him at
V6Tf8 the next day, and then glided off towards Madame
D'Anville.
She was surrounded with men, and talking to each with
that vivacity which, in a Frenchwoman, is so graceful, and
in an Englishwoman would be so vulgar. Though her
eyes were not directed towards me, she saw me approach
ADYENTUBES OF A GENTLEMAN. 71
by that instiDctive perception which all coquettes possess,
and suddenly altering her seat, made way for me beside
her. I did not lose so favorable an opportunity of gaining
her good graces, and losing those of all the male animals
around her. I sank down on th > vacant chair and contrived,
with the most unabashed effrontery, and yet, with the most
consummate dexterity, to make everything that I said
pleasing to her, revolting to some one of her attendants.
Wormwood himself could not have succeeded better. One
by one they dropped off, and we were left alone among
the crowd. Then, indeed, I changed the whole tone of
my conversation. Sentiment succeeded to satire, and the
pretence of feeling to that of affectation. In short, I was
80 resolved to please that I could scarcely fail to succeed.
In this main object of the evening I was not however
solely employed. I should have been very undeserving
of that character for observation which I flatter myself I
peculiarly deserve, if I had not, during the three hours I
stayed at Madame D 's, conned over every person
remarkable for any thing, from rank to a riband. The
Duchesse herself was a fair, pretty, clever woman, with
manners rather English than French. She was leaning,
at the time I paid my respects to her, on the arm of an
Italian count, tolerably well known at Paris. Poor
0 il I hear he is since married. He did not
deserve so heavy a calamity I
Sir Henry Millington was close by her, carefully packed
np in his coat and waistcoat. Certainly, that man is the
best padder in Europe.
72 P£LHAM; OB,
"Come and sit by me, Millington," cried old Ladj
Oldtown ; " I have a good story to tell you of the Due
de ."
Sir Henry, with diflficulty, turned round his magnificent
head, and muttered out some unintelligible excuse. The
fact was, that poor Sir Henry was not that evening made
to sit down — he had only his standing up eoat on I Lady
Oldtown — heaven knows — is easily consoled. She sup-
plied the place of the baronet with a most superbly mus-
tachioed German.
" Who," said I, to Madame d'Anville, " are those pretty
girls in white, talking with such eagerness to Mr. Aberton
and Lord Luscombe ? "
" What I " said the Frenchwoman, " have you been ten
days in Paris and not been introduced to the Miss Carltons J
Let me tell you that your reputation among your coun-
trymen at Paris depends solely upon their verdict.^'
"And upon your favor," added L
"Ah ; " said she, "you rrnist have had your origin in
France ; you have something about you almost Farisian,^^
"Pray," said I, (after having duly acknowledged this
compliment, the very highest that a Frenchwoman can
bestow,) " what did you really and candidly think of our
countrymen during your residence in England ? "
"I will tell you," answered Madame d'Anville ; "they
are brave, honest, generous, mats Us sont demi-barbaresP^*
*Bat they aro half-barbarions.
ADYENTUBSS OF A GSNTLEMAN. 79
CHAPTER XII.
Pia mater
Plus qnam se sapere, et virtatibus esse priorem
Vult, et ait prope vera.* — Hoe. Sat,
Vere (y) mihi festas atras
Ezimet ouras. — Hob. Or.
The next morning I received a letter from my mother.
' My dear Henry/' began my affectionate and incompar*
able parent —
"My dear Henbt,
** Yon have now fairly entered the world, and thongh
at yonr age my advice may be but little followed, my
experience cannot altogether be useless. I shall, there-
fore, make no apology for a few precepts, which I trust
may tend to make you a wiser and a better man.
. " I hope, in the first place, that you have left your letter
at the ambassador's, and that you will not fail to go there
as often as possible. Pay your court in particular to
Lady . She is a charming person, universally pop-
ular, and one of the very few English people to whom
one may safely be civil. Apropos of English civility, you
have, I hope, by this time discovered that you have to
* With sage advice, and many a sober truth, the pious mother
moulds to shape the youth. Hawkb's Paraphrase.
The application of the second motto rests solely upon an nntrana«
Atable play of words.
I.-T
74 pblham; ob, "
assnme a yerj different manner with French people from
that with onr own countrymen : with ns, the least appear-
ance of feeling or enthnsiasm is certain to be ridiculed
everywhere ; but in Prance, you may venture to seem not
quite devoid of all natural sentiments : indeed, if you affect
enthusiasm, they will give you credit for genius, and they
will place all the qualities of the heart to the account of
the head. You know that in England, if you seem de-
sirous of a person's acquaintance, you are sure to lose it ;
they imagine you have some design upon their wives or
their dinners ; but in France you can never lose by polite-
ness ; nobody will call your civility forwardness and
pushing. If the Princesse de T , and the Duchesse
de D , ask you to their houses (which indeed they
will, directly you have left your letters), go there two or
three times a week, if only for a few minutes in the even-
ing. It is very hard to be acqtiairUed with great French
people, but when you are, it is your own fault if you are
not intimate with them
" Most English people have a kind of difl5dence and
scruple at calling in the evening — this is perfectly mis-
placed : the French are never ashamed of themselves,
like us, whose persons, families, and houses are never fit
to be seen, unless they are dressed out for a party.
" Don't imagine that the ease of French manners is at
all like what we call ease : you must not lounge on your
chair — nor put your feet upon a stool — nor forget your-
lelf for one single moment, when you are talking with
romen.
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. T6
" Yon have heard a great deal about the gallantries of
fte French ladies ; bat remember that they demand infi-
nitely greater attention than English women do ; and
that after a month's incessant devotion, yon may lose
everything by a moment's neglect.
" You will not, my dear son, misinterpret these hints.
1 suppose, of course, that all your liaisons are platonic.
" Your father is laid up with the gout, and dreadfully
ill-tempered and peevish ; however, I keep out of the
way as much as possible. I dined yesterday at Lady
Koseville's : she praised you very much, said your man
ners were particularly good, and that no one, if he pleased,
eould be at once so brilliantly original, yet so completely
bon ton. Lord Vincent is, I understand, at Paris ; though
very tiresome with his learning and Latin, he is exceed-
ingly clever and much in vogue ; be sure to cultivate his
acquaintance.
" If you are ever at a loss as to the individual character
of a person you wish to gain, the general knowledge of
human nature will teach you one infallible specific,—
flattery I The quantity and quality may vary according
to the exact-niceties of art ; but, in any quantity and in
any quality, it is more or less acceptable, and therefore
certain to please. Only never (or at least very rarely)
flatter when other people, besides the one to be flattered,
are by; in that case you offend the rest, and you make
even your intended dupe ashamed to be pleased.
" In genera], weak minds think only of others, and yet
leem only occupied with themselves ; you, on the contrary.
T6 PXLHAM; OR,
mast appear wholly engrossed with those about yoa, and
jet never have a single idea which does not terminate in
yourself: a fool, my dear Henry, flatters himself — a wise
man flatters the fooL
'* God bless you, my dear child, take care of your health
— don't forget Coulon ; and believe me your most affec-
tionate mother, "F. P."
By the time I had read this letter, and dressed myself
for the evening, Vincent's carriage was at the door. I
hate the affectation of keeping people waiting, and went
down so quickly that I met his facetious lordship upon
the stairs. " Devilish windy," said T, as we were getting
into the carriage.
" Yes," said Vincent ; " but the moral Horace reminds
us of our remedies as well as our misfortune -—
^Jam galeam Pallas, et segida,
Gurrusqne — parat * —
viz. : ' Providence that prepares the gale^ gives us also a
great-coat and a carriage,'"
3Ve were not long driving to the Palais Royal, V6ry's
was crowded to excess — "A very low set!" said Lord
Vincent, (who, being half a liberal, is of course a thorough
aristocrat,) looking round at the various English who
occupied the apartment.
There was, indeed, a motley congregation ; country
esquires ; extracts from the universities ; half-pay officers ;
city clerks in frogged coats and mnstachios ; two or three
of a better«looking description, but in reality half swind*
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. Y7
fers, half gentlemen : all, in short, fit specimens of that
wandering tribe, which spread over the continent the
renown and ridicule of good old England.
" Oargon, gargoUj''^ cried a stout gentleman, who made
one of three at the table next to us, "Donnez-nous une
%olefrite pour un, et des pommes de terre pour troisl^
" Humph I " said Lord Vincent ; " fine ideas of English
taste these gargons must entertain ; men who prefer fried
soles and potatoes to the yarious delicacies they can
command here, might, by the same perversion of taste,
prefer Bloomfield's poems to Byron's. Delicate taste
<!epends solely upon the physical construction ; and a
man who has it not in cookery, must want it in literature.
Fried sole and potatoes/ 1 If I had written a volume,
whose merit was in elegance, I would not show it to such
a man I — but he might be an admirable critic upon ' Gob-
bett's Register,' or 'Every Man his own brewer.'"
" Excessively true," said I ; " what shall we order ? "
^*D^abordf des huUres d^Ostende^^^ said Vincent; "as
to the rest," taking hold of the carte, ** deliberare tUilia
mora uHllissima est, " *
We were soon engaged in all the pleasures and pains
of a dinner.
" Petimus,^^ said Lord Vincent, helping himself to some
poulet d VAusterlUz^ "petimus bene vivere, quod
peiis, hie est ? " f
* To deliberate on things useful is the most nsefol delay,
f We seek to live well — what you seek is here.
I*
t8 pelham; OB,
We were not, however, assured of that fact at the ter«
mination of dinner. If half the dishes were well conceived
and better executed, the other half were proportionably
bad. Very is, indeed^ no longer the prince of restanra*
teurs. The low English who have flocked thither, have
entirely ruined the place. What waiter — what cook can
possibly respect men who take no soup, and begin with a
rdU'j who know neither what is good nor what is bad;
who eat rognons at dinner instead of at breakfast, and
fall into raptures over sauce Robert and pieds de cochon ;
who cannot tell, at the first taste, whether the beaune is
premiere quality, or the fricassee made of yesterday^s
chicken ; who suffer in the stomach after a champignon,
and die with indigestion of a truffle f O ! English peo-
ple, English people I why can you not stay and perish
of apoplexy and Yorkshire pudding at home ?
By the time we had drunk our coffee it was considerably
past nine o'clock, and Vincent had business at the am-
bassador's before ten ; we therefore parted for the night.
" What do you think of Vary's ? " said I, as we were
at the door. ^
"Why," replied Vincent, "when I recall the astonish-
ing heat of the place, which has almost sent me to sleep ;
the exceeding number of times in which that bScasse had
been re-roasted, and the extortionate length of our bills,
I say of V6ry's, what Hamlet said of the world, 'Weary,
9tale, and unprofitable I ' • '
ABYENTUEES OF A GENTLEMAN. 1%
CHAPTER XIII.
I woald fight irith proad swords, and sink point on the first plood
drawn like gentleman's. — The Chronicles of the CanongaU,
I STROLLED idly along the Palais Royal (which English
people, in some silly proverb, call the capital of Paris,
whereas no French man of any rank/ nor French woman
of any respectability, is ever seen in its promenades) till,
being somewhat cnrions to enter some of the smaller caf^s^
I went into one of the meanest of them, took up a Jour-
nal dea Spectacles^ and called for some lemonade. At the
next table to me sat two or three Frenchmen, evidently
of inferior rank, and talking very loudly over England
and the English. Their attention was soon fixed upon
me.
Have you ever observed that if people are disposed to
think ill of yoo, nothing so soon determines them to do
80 as any act of yonrs, which, however innocent and
inoffensive, differs from their ordinary habits and customs f
No sooner had my lemonade made its appearance, .than I
perceived an increased sensation among my neighbors of
the next table. In the first place, lemonade is not much
drunk, as you may suppose, among the French in winter ;
and, in the second, my beverage had an appearance of
ostentation, from being one of the dearest articles I could
bare called for. Unhappily I dropped my newspaper—
80 pebham; OB,
it fell under the Frenchmen's table ; instead of calling tho
garqon, I was foolish enough to stoop for it myself. It
was exactly under the feet of one of the Frenchmen ; I
asked him with the greatest civility, to move : he made
no reply. I could not, for the life of me, refrain from
giving him a slight, very slight push ; the next moment
he moved in good earnest ; the whole party sprung up as
he set the example. The offended leg gave three terrific
stamps upon the ground, and I was immediately assailed
by a whole volley cff unintelligible abuse. At that time
I was very little accustomed to French vehemence, and
perfectly unable to reply to the vituperations I received.
Instead of answering them, I therefore deliberated
what was best to be done. If, thought I, I walk away,
they will think me a coward, and insult me in the streets ;
if I challenge them, I shall have to fight with men proba-
bly no better than shopkeepers ; if I strike this most
noisy amongst them, he may be silenced, or he may de-
mand satisfaction : if the former, well and good ; if the
latter, why I shall have a better excuse for fighting him
than I should have now.
My resolution was therefore taken. I was never more
free frona passion in my life, and it was, therefore, with
the utmost calmness and composure that, in the midst of
my antagonist's harangue, I raised my hand and — quietly
knocked him down.
He rose in a moment. **SortonSj" said he, in a low
tone, '*a Frenchman never forgives a blow !''
At that moment, an Englishman, who had been sitting
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. Bl
unnoticed in an obscure corner of the caf^, came np and
took me aside.
" Sir," said he, " don't think of fighting the man ; he
is a tradesman in the Hue St, Honors. I myself have
Been him behind the counter ; remember that ' a ram may
Hll a butcher,^ ^^
*' Sir," I replied, " I thank you a thousand times for
your information. Fight, however, I must, and TU give
you, like the Irishman, my reasons afterwards : perhaps
you will be my second."
"With pleasure," said the Englishman (a Frenchman
would have said, ** with pain/")
We left the cafS together. My countryman asked them
if he should go to the gunsmith's for the pistols.
" Pistols I " said the Frenchman's second ; *^ we will
only fight with swords."
" No, no," said my new friend. ' On ne prend pas le
litvre au tambourin,^ We are the challenged, and there-
fore have the choice of weapons."
Luckily I overheard this dispute, and called to my
second — ''Swords or pistols," said I; "it is quite the
same to me. I am not bad at either, only do make haste."
Swords, then, were chosen, and soon procured. French-
men never grow cool upon their quarrels : and as it was
a fine, clear, star-light night, we went forthwith to the
Bois de Boulogne. We fixed our ground on a spo^
tolerably retired, and, I should. think, pretty often fre-
quented for the same purpose. I was exceedingly confi-
lent, for I knew myself to have few equals in the art of
F
pelham; OB,
fencing ; and I had all the advantage of coolness, which
mj hero was a great deal loo mnch in earnest to possess.
We joined swords, and in a very few moments I discovered
that my opponent's life was at my disposal.
" G^est bien," thought I ; "for once I'll behave hand*
Eomely."
The Frenchman made a desperate Innge. I struck his
sword from his hand, caught it instantly, and, presenting
it to him again, said —
" I think myself peculiarly fortunate that I may now
apologize for the affront I have put upon you. Will
you permit my sincerest apologies to suffice ? A man
who can so well resent an injury, can forgive one. "
Was there ever a Frenchman not taken by a fine phrase f
My hero received the sword with a low bow — the tears
came into his eyes.
" Sir," said he, "you have twice conquered.'*
We left the spot with the greatest amity and affection,
and re-entered, with a profusion of bows, our several
fiacres.
" Let me," I said, when I found myself alone with my
second, ** let me thank yon most cordially for your assist-
ance ; and allow me to cultivate an acquaintance so sin-
gularly begun. I lodge at the Hotel de , Bue de
Bivoli] my name is Pelham. Yours is — ^
" Thornton," replied my countryman. " I will lose no
time in profiting by an .offer of acquaintance which does
me so much honor."
With these and various other fine speeches, we employed
ADVENTUBES 01* A GENTLEMAN. 88
tbe time till I was set down at my hotel ; and my com-
panion, drawing his cloak ronnd him, departed on foot,
to fulfil (he said, with a mysterious air) a certain assigna-
tion in the Faubourg St, Oermairu
CHAPTER XIV.
Erat homo ingeniosus, acutus, acer, et qui plarimum et fia^ig
haberet et fellis, neo candoris minus.* — Flint.
I DO not know a more difficult character to describe
than Lord Vincent's. Did I imitate certain writers, who
think that the whole art of portraying indlTidual character
is to seize hold of some prominent peculiarity^ and to
introduce this distinguishing trait, in all times and in all
scenes, the difficulty would be removed. I should only
have to present to the reader a man, whose conversation
was nothing but alternate jest and quotation — a d*ie union
of Yorick and Partridge. This would, however, be ren
derin g great injustice to the character I wish to delineate.
There were times when Vincent was earnestly engrossed
in discussion in which a jest rarely escaped him, and quo-
tation was introduced only as a serious illustration, not
&s a humorous peculiarity. He possessed great miscel-
laneous erudition, and a memory perfectly surprising for
its fidelity and extent. He was a severe critic, and had
* ** He was a clever and able man — acute, sharp — with abundau<^«
•f wit m^ no less of candor. — Cookb."
84 pelham; ob,
a pecnliar art of quoting from eacb author he reviewer?,
some part that particularly told against him. Like most
men, if in the theory of philosophy he was tolerably rigid,
in its practice he was more than tolerably loose. By his
tenets you would have considered him a very Cato for
stubbornness and sternness : yet was he a very child in
his concession to the whim of the moment. Pond of med-
itation and research, he was still fonder of mirth and
amusement ; and while he was among the most instructive,
he was also* the boonest, of companions. . When alone
with me, or with men whom he imagined like me, his
pedantry (for more or less, he always was pedantic) took
only a jocular tone ; with the savant or the bel esprit^ it
became grave, searching, and sarcastic. He was rather a
contradicter than a favorer of ordinary opinions : and this,
perhaps, led him not unoften into paradox : yet was there
much soundness, even in his most vehement notions, and
the strength of mind which made him think only for him-
self, was visible in all the productions it created. I have
hitherto only given his conversation in one of its moods;
henceforth I shall be just enough occasionally to be dull,
and to present it sometimes to the reader in a graver tone.
Buried deep beneath the surface of his character, was
a hidden, yet a restless ambition : but this was perhaps,
at present, a secret even to himself. We know not our
own characters till time teaches us self-knowledge : if we
aro mse, we may thank ourselves ; if we are greats, we
must thank fortune.
It was this insight into Yincent's nature which drew 08
ADVENTUKES OP A GENTLEMAN. Rb
closer together. I recognized in the man, who as yet was
playing a part, a resemblance to myself, while he, perhaps,
saw at times that I was somewhat better than the volup-
tuary, and somewhat wiser than the coxcomb, which were
all that at present it suited me to appear.
In person, Vincent was short, and ungracefully formed
— but his countenance was singularly fine. His eyes were
dark, bright and penetrating, and his forehead (high and
thoughtful) corrected the playful smile of his mouth, which
might otherwise have given to his features too great an
expression of levity. He was not positively ill-dressed,
yet he paid no attention to any external art, except clean*
liness. His usual garb was a brown coat, much too large
for him, a colored neckcloth, a spotted waist-coat, grey
trowsers, and short gaiters : add to these gloves of most
unsullied doe-skin, and a curiously thick cane, and the
portrait is complete.
In manners, he was civil or rude, familiar, or distant, just
as the whim seized him ; never was there any address less
common, and less artificial. What a rare gift, iJy-the-by,
is that of manners I how difficult to define — how much
more difficult to impart I Better for a man to possess them,
than wealth, beauty, or even talent, if it fall short of
genius — they will more than supply all. He who enjoys
their advantages in the highest degree ; viz., he who can
please, penetrate, persuade, as the object may require,
possesses the subtlest secret of the diplomatist and the
statesman, and wants nothing but luck and opportunity to
become " greai,^^
I. — 8
PXIiHAU; OE.
CHAPTER XV.
Le plaisir de la Boci^t^ entre les amis se oaltive par une retseni'
blance de goiit sur oe qui regarde les moenrs, et par quelque difffirenoe
d'opinions sur les sciences; par Ik on Ton s'affermit dans ses
sentiments, ou Ton s'exerce et Ton s'intmit par )a dispute.* — La
BaUYEBB.
There was a party at Monsieur de V e's, to
which Vincent and myself were the only Englishmen
invited : accordingly, as the Hotel de V. was in the same
street as my hotel, we dined together at my rooms, and
walked thence to the minister's hoase.
The party was as stiff and formal as snch assemblies
Invariably are, and we were both delighted when we espied
Monsieur d'A , a man of much conversational talent,
and some celebrity as an ultra writer, forming a little group
in one comer of the room.
We took advantage of our acquaintance with the urbane
Frenchman to join his party ; the conversation turned
almost entirely on literary subjects. Allusion being made
to SchlegePs History of Literature, and the severity with
which he speaks of Helvetius, and the philosophers of his
* The pleasure of society amongst friends is cultivated by resem-
blance of taste as to manners, but some difference of opinion ag
to mental acquisitions. Thus while it is confirmed by congeniality
of sentiments, it gains exercise and instruotion by intellsctiuil
discussion.
▲ DVENTUBES OT A GENTLEMAN. 8)
ichool, we began to discnss what harm the freethinkers in
philosophy had effected.
" For my part," said Vincent, " I am not able to divine
why we are supposed, in works where there is much trnth,
and little falsehood, much good, and a little evil, to see only
the eyil and the falsehood, to the ntter exdnsion of the
trath and the good. All men whose minds are sufficiently
laborioas or acute to love the reading of metaphysical
inquiries, will by the same labor and acuteness separate
the chaff from the corn — the false from the true. It is
the young, the light, the superficial, who are easily misled
by error, and incapable of discerning its fallacy ; but tell
me if it is the light, the young, the superficial, who are in
the habit of reading the abstruse and subtle speculations
of the philosopher. No, no I believe me that it is the very
studies Monsieur Schlegel recommends which do harm to
morality and virtue ; it is the study of literature itself
the play, the poem, the novel, which all minds, however
frivolous, can enjoy and understand, that constitute the
real foes of religion and moral improvement."
*^ Ma foi,^^ cried Monsieur de G., (who was a little
writer, and a great reader, of romances,) " why you would
not deprive us of the politer literature — you would not
bid us shut up our novels, and burn our theatres I ''
" Certainly not I " replied Vincent ; " and it i» in this
particularthat I differ from certain modern philosophers of
our own country, for whom, for the most part, I entertain
the highest veneration. I would not deprive life of a single
^racC; or a single enjoyment; but I would counteract
88 pelham; oe,
whatever is pernicious in whatever is elegant : if among
my flowers there is a snake, I would not root up my flowers,
I would kill the snake. Thus, who are they that derive
from fiction and literature a prejudicial effect ? We have
seen already — the light and superficial ? — but who are
they that derive profit from them ? — they who enjoy well
regulated and discerning minds ; who pleasure ? — all
mankind ! Would it not therefore be better, instead of
depriving some of profit, and all of pleasure, by banishing
poetry and fiction from our Utopia, to correct the minds
which find evil, where, if they were properly instructed,
they would find good ? Whether we agree wijth Helvetius,
that all men are born with an equal capacity of improve*
ment, or merely go the length with all other metaphysicians,
that education can improve the human mind to an extent
yet incalculable, it must be quite clear, that we can give
sound views, instead of fallacies, and make common truths
as easy to discern and adopt as common errors. But if
we effect this, which we all allow is so easy, with our
children; if we strengthen their minds, instead of weakening
them, and clear their vision, rather than confuse it, from
that moment, we remove the prejudicial effects of fiction,
and just as we have taught them to use a knife, without
cutting .their fingers, we teach them to make use of fiction
without perverting it to their prejudice. What pkiloscpher
was ever hurt by reading the novels of L * * *, or seeing
the comedies of Moli^re ? You understand me, then.
Monsieur de G., I do, it is true, think that polite literature
(as it is termed) is prejudicial to the superficial, but, for
ADYSNTUBE8 Of A GENTLEMAN. 89
that reason, I wonld not do away with the literature, I
would do away with the superficial."
" I deny," said M. d'A , " that this is so easy a
task — you cannot make all men wise."
"No," replied Vincent! "but you can all children^ at
least to a certain extent. Since you cannot deny the
prodigious effects of education, you must allow that they
will, at least, give common sense ; for if they cannot do
this, they can do nothing. Now, common sense is all
that is necessary to distinguish what is good and evil,
whether it be in life or in books : but then your education
must not be that of public teaching and private fooling ;
you mast not counteract the effects of common sense by
instilling prejudice, or encoraging weakness ; your educa-
tion may not be carried to the utmost goal, but as far as
it does go, you must see that the road is clear. Now, for
instance, with regard to fiction, yon must not first, as ig
done in all modern education, admit the disease, and then
dose with warm water to expel it: you must not put
fiction in your child's hands and not give him a single
principle to guide his judgment respecting it, till his mind
has got wedded to* the poison, and too weak, by its long
use, to digest the antidote. No : first fortify his intellect
by reason, and you may then please his fancy by fiction.
Bo not excite his imagination with love and glory, till
you can instruct his judgment as to what love and glory
ore. Teach him, in short, to reflect^ before you permit
him full indulgence to imagine,"
Qere there was a pause. Monsieur D'A looked
8*
90 pblham; OB,
very ilUpleased, and poor Monsieur de G tbongbt
that somehow or other his romance writing was called into
qaestion. In order to soothe them, I introdaced some
subject which permitted a little national flattery ; the con-
versation then turned insensibly on the character of the
French people.
"Never," said Vincent, "has there been a character
more often descibed — never one less understood. You
have been termed superficial. I think, of all people, that
you least deserve the accusation. With regard to the few^
your philosophers, your mathematicians, your men of
science, are consulted by those of other nations, as some
of their profoundest authorities. With regard to the many^
the charge is still more unfounded. Compare your mob,
whether of gentlemen or plebeians, to those of Germany,
Italy — even England — and I own, in spite of my na-
tional prepossessions, that the comparison is infinitely in
your favor. The country gentleman, the lawyer, the 'peia
maUre of England, are proverbially inane and ill-informed.
With you, the classes of society that answer to those
respective grades, have much information in literature,
and often not a little in science. In like manner, your
tradesmen, and your servants, are of better cultivated and
less prejudiced minds than those ranks in England. The
fact is, that all with you pretend to be savanSi and this is
the chief reason why yon have been censured as shallow.
We see your fine gentleman, or your petii bourgeois^ give
himself the airs of a critic or a philosopher ; and because
ne is neither a Scaliger nor a Newton, we forget that he
ADVENTUBS8 OV A GENTLEMAN. 91
Is oiUy the bourgeois or the peiU mcntre, and brand all
your . philosophers and critics with the censnre of super-
ficiality, which this shallow indiyidnal of a shallow order
may justly have deserved. We, the English, it is true, do
not expose ourselves thus : our dandies, our tradesmen, do
not vent second-rate philosophy on the human mind, nor
on les heaiuc arts: but why is this ? Not because they
are better informed than their correspondent ciphers in
France, but because they are much worse informed ; not
because they can say a great deal more on the subject, but
because they can say nothing at all."
" You do us more than justice," said Mons. d'A- ,
" in this instance : are you disposed to do us justice in
another ? It is a favorite propensity of your countrymen
to accuse us of heartlessness and want of feeling. Think
you that this accusation is deserved ? "
" By no means," replied Vincent. " The same cause
that brought on you the erroneous censure we have before
mentioned, appears to me also to have created this ; viz.^
a sort of Palais Boyal vanity, common to all your nation,
which induces you to make as much display at the shop
window as possible. You show great cordiality, and even
enthusiasm, to strangers : you turn your back on them —
you forget them. * How heartless I ' cry we. Not at all I
The English show no cordiality, no enthusiasm to strangers,
it is true : but they equally turn their backs on them, and
equally forget them I The only respect, therefore, in which
they differ from you, is the previous kindness : now if we
are to receive strangers, I can really see no reason why
92 pelham: or,
we are not to oe as civil to them as possible ; and so far
from imputing the desire to please them to a bad heart, I
think it a thousand times more amiable and benevolent
than telling them d VAnglaise, by yonr morositj and
reserve, that yon do not care a pin what becomes of them.
If I am only to walk a mile with a man, why should I not
make that mile as pleasant to him as I can ? or why, above
all, if I choose to be sulky, and tell him to go and be d — d,
am I to swell out my chest, color with conscious virtue,
and cry. See what a good heart I have f ♦ Ah, Monsieur
d'A , since benevolence is inseparable from all moral-
ity, it must be clear that there is a benevolence in little
things as well as in great, and that he who strives to make
his fellow-creatures happy, though only for an instant, is a
much better man than he who is- indifferent to, or (what
is worse) despises it. Nor do I, to say truth, see that
kindness to an acquaintance is at all destructive to sincerity
to a friend ; on the contrary, I have yet to learn, that you
are (according to the customs of your country) worse
friends, worse husbands, or worse fathers, than we are I "
" What I " cried I, " you forget yourself, Vincent. How
can the private virtues be cultivated without a coal fire 1
Is not domestic affection a synonymous term with domestic
hearth f and where do yon find either, except in honest
old England?"
* Mr. Pelbam, it will be remembered, has prevised the reader,
that Lord Yincent was somewhat addicted to paradox. His opinions
on the French character are to be taken with a certain reserve. —
Author,
ADYSNTURIS Of A GENTLEMAN. M
" True," replied Vincent ; " and it is certainly impossible
for a father and his family to be as fond of each pther on
a bright day in the Tuileries, or at Versailles, with mnsic
and dancing, and fresh air, as they woald be in a back
parlor, by a smoky hearth, occupied entirely by le bon
p^re, et la bonne m^re; while the poor little children sit
at the other end of the table, whispering and shivering,
debarred the yent of all natural spirits, for fear of making
a noise : and strangely uniting the idea of the domestic
hearth with that of a hob goblin, and the association of
dear papa with that of a birch rod."
We all laughed at this reply, and Monsieur d'A ^
rising to depart, said, " Well, well, milord, your country-
men are great generalizers in philosophy; they reduce
human actions to two grand touchstones. All hilarity,
they consider the sign of a shallow mind ; and all kindnesBi
the tDken of a false heart"
M PELHAll; OE,
CHAPTER XVI.
-Quia sapiens bono
Confidat fraglli ? * — Sbnboa.
Grammatici certant, et adhuc subjudice lis est.f — Hob.
When I first went to Paris, I took a French master to
perfect me in the Parisian pronunciation. This '* Haber-
dasher of pronouns " was a person of the name of Margot.
He was a tall, solemn man, with a face of the most imper-
turbable gravity. He would have been inestimable as an
undertaker. His hair was of a pale yellow ; you would
haye thought it had caught a bilious complaint from his
complexion ; the latter was, indeed, of so sombre a saffron,
that it looked as if ten livers had been forced into a jaundice,
in order to supply its color. His forehead was high, bald,
and very narrow. His cheek-bones were extremely promi-
nent, and his cheeks so thin, that they seemed happier than
P'yramus and Thisbe, and kissed each other inside without
any separation or division. His face was as sharp and
almost as long as an inverted pyramid, and was garnished
on either side by a miserable half-starved whisker, which
seemed scarcely able to maintain itself amidst the general
*Wbat wise man confides in tbe fragile? — Sbneoa.
f Grammarians dispute, and the matter is still under oonsideratioD
»f the judge. — Hobaob.
ADYENTUaSS OV A GENTLEMAN. 95
Bymptoms of atrophj and decay. This charming coan-
tenance was snpported by a figure so long, so straight, so
shadowy, that yon might have taken it for the monument
In a consnmption I
But the chief characteristic of the man was the ntter
and wonderful gravity I have before spoken of. You could
DO more have coaxed a smile out of his countenance than
you could out of the poker ; and yet Monsieur Margot
was by no means a melancholy man. He loved his joke,
and his wine, and his dinner, just as much as if he had
been of a tatter frame ; and it was a fine specimen of the
practical antithesis, to hear a good story, or a jovial
expression, leap friskily out of that long curved mouth ; it
was at once a paradox and a bathos — it was the mouse
coming out of its hole in Ely Cathedral.
I said that this gravity was M. Margot's most especial
characteristic. I forgot ; — he had two others equally
remarkable ; the one was an ardent admiration for the
chivalrous, the other an ardent admiration for himself.
Both of these are traits commmon enongh in a Frenchman,
but in Monsieur Margot their excesses rendered them
uncommon. He was a most ultra specimen of le chevalier,
amoureux — a mixture of Don Quixote and the Due de
Lanzun. Whenever he spoke of the present tense, even
en professeurf he always gave a sigh to the preterite, and
an anecdote of Bayard ; whenever he conjugated a verb,
he paused to tell me that the favorite one of his female
pupils wa& Je V aime.
In short, he had tales of his own good fortune, and of
96 pelham; ob,
other people's brave exploits, which, without mnch ezag
geration, were almost as long, and had perhaps as little
sabstance, as himself; bat the former was his favorite
topic : to hear him, one would have imagined that his face,
in borrowing the sharpness of the needle, had borrowed
also its attraction ; — and then the prettiness of Monsieur
Margot's modesty I
'* It is very extraordinary," said he, " very extraordi-
nary, for I have no time to give myself up to those affairs :
it is not, Monsieur, as if I had your leisure to employ all
the little preliminary arts of creating la belle pcbssion,
Non, Monsieur, I go to church, to the pla/, to the Tuileries,
for a brief relaxation — and me voildpartout accabU with
my good fortune. I am not handsome. Monsieur, at least,
not very ; it i^ true, that I have expression, a certain air
noble, (my first-cousin, Monsieur, is the Chevalier de
Margot,) and above all, soul in my physiognomy ; the
women love soul, Monsieur-^ something intellectual and
spiritual always attracts them ; yet my success certainly
is singular."
*'Bah/ Jfofisiewr," replied I: "with dignity, expres-
sion, and soul, how could the heart of any Frenchwoman
resist you f No, you do yourself injustice. It was said
of C»sar, that he was great without an effort; much
more, then, may Monsieur Margot be happy without an
exertion."
"Ah, Monsieur 1 " rejoined the Frenchman, still looking
<*As weak, as earnest, and as gravely out
As sober Lonesbro' danoing with the goot."
s*
ADYENTTTBES OF A GENTLEMAN. 91
"Ah, Monsieur, there is a depth and truth in your
remarks, worthy of Montaigne. As it is impossible to
account for the caprices of women, so it is impossible for
oui'selves to aualyze the merit they discover in us ; but,
Monsieur, hear me — at the house where I lodge there is
an English lady en pension. Eh hien] Monsieur^ you
ga»su the rest ; she has taken a caprice for me, and this
Tery oiglit she will admit me to her apartment. She is
very handsome, — Ah qu^elle est belle! une jolie petite
botu)he, %ne denture Sblouissante, un nez tout dfait grec,
in fine, quite a bouton de rose,^^
I expressed my envy at Monsieur Margot's good fortune,
and when he had sufficiently dilated upon it, he withdrew.
Shortly afterwards Vincent entered — "I have a dinner
invitatiou for both of us to-day," said he ; "you will come ?"
"Most ceitainly," replied I; "but who is the person
we are to h(»nor?''
"A Madame Laurent," replied Vincent ; " one of those
ladies only found at Paris, who live upon anything rather
than their income. She keeps a tolerable table, haunted
with Poles, Russians, Austrians, and idle Frenchmen,
peregrines gentis amoenum hospitium. As yet she has
not the happiness to be acquainted with any Englishmen,
(though she boards one of our countrywomen) and (as she
is desirous of making her fortune as soon as possible)
she is very anxious of having that honor. She has heard
vast reports of our wealth and wisdom, and flatters herself
that we are so many ambulatory Indies : in good truth, a
L ~9 a
98 PELHAM; OB,
Frenchwoman thinks she is never in want of a fortune ••
long as there is a rich fool in the world.
<Stultitiam patiuntor opes/
is her hope: and
' Ut tu fortunam, Bio nos te, Celse, fereinus,*
IS her motto."
'* Madame Lanrent ! " repeated I, *' why, snrely that ii
the name of Mons. Margot's landlady."
" I hope not," cried Vincent, " for the sake of our din-
ner; he reflects no credit on her good cheer —
*Who eats fat dinners, should himself be fat.' "
"At all events," said I, '* we can try the good lady for
once. I am very anxions to see a countrywoman of oura^
probably the very one you speak of, whom Mons. Margot
eulogizes in glowing colors, and who has, moreover, taken
a violent fancy for my solemn preceptor. What think
you of that, Vincent ? "
" Nothing extraordinary," replied Vincent; "the lady
only exclaims with the moralist —
'Loye, virtue, yalor, yea, all human charms.
Are shrank and centered in that heap of bonet.
Oh! there are wondrous beauties in the grave!***
«
I made some punning rejoinder, and we sallied out to
earn an appetite in the Tuileries for Madame Laurent's
dinner.
At the hour of half-past five we repaired to our engage-
ment. Madame Laurent received us with the most evident
ADYENTURBS OF A GINTLIMAN. 99
Mtisfaction, and introduced as forthwith to oar conn
trjwoman. She was a pretty, ffdr, shrewd-looking person,
with an eye and lip, which, nnless it greatly belied her,
showed her much more inclined to be merry and wise, than
honest and true.
Presently Monsieur Margot made his appearance.
Though very much surprised at seeing me, he did not
appear the least jealous of my attentions to his inamorata.
Indeed, the good gentleman was far too much pleased
with himself to be susceptible to the suspicions common
to less fortunate lovers. At dinner I sat next to the
pretty Englishwoman, whose name was Oreen.
" Monsieur Margot," said I, " has often spoken to me
of you, before I had the happiness of being personally
convinced how true and unexaggerated were his senti-
ments."
" Oh I " cried Mrs. Green, with an arch laugh, " you
are acquainted with Monsieur Margot^ then?"
"I have that honor," said I. "I receive from him
every morning lessons both in love and languages. He
is perfect master of both."
Mrs. Oreen burst out laughing.
"Ah, le pauvre profeaseurP^ cried she. " He is too
absurd I "
** He tells me," said I gravely, " that he is quite accabU
with his bonnes fortunes — possibly he flatters himself that
even you are not perfectly inaccessible to his addresses."
" Tell me, Mr. Pelham," said the fair Mrs. Green, " can
Ton pass by this street about half-past twelve to-night f "
910;^ l'^
100 pxlham; OB,
'* I will make a point of doing so," replied I, not a little
surprised by the question.
** Do," said she, ** and now let as talk of old England."
When we went away, I told Vincent of my appointment.
''What!" said he, ''eclipse Monsieur MargotI Im-
possible I "
" You are right," replied I, " nor is it my hope ; there is
some trick afloat, to which we may as well be spectators."
" With all my heart I " answered Vincent ; " let us go
till then to the Duchesse de Q ." I assented, and wo
drove to the Rue de .
The Duchesse de G was a fine relic of the ancien
regime — tall and stately, with her own grey hair crip6f
and surmounted by a high cap of the most dazzling blonde.
She had been one of the earliest emigrants, and had stayed
for many months with my mother, whom she professed to
rank amongst her dearest friends. The Duchesse possessed
to perfection that singular melange of ostentation and
ignorance which was so peculiar to the ante-revolutionists.
She would talk of the last tragedy with the emphatic tone
Qf a connoisseur, in the same breath that she would ask,
with Marie Antoinette, why the poor people were so
clamorous for breads when they might buy such nice cakes
for twopence a-piece ? " To give you an idea of tjie Irish,"
said she one day to an inquisitive marquess, "know that
they prefer potatoes to mutton 1 "
Her soirees were among the most agreeable at Paris
— she united all the rank and talent to be found in the
ultra party, for she professed to be quite a female Mecaeuas ;
ADYSNTUBSS OF A GENTLEMAN. lOi
and whether it was a mathematiciau or a romance-writer^
a naturalist or a poet, she held open house for all, and
conversed with each with eqaal fluencv and self-satisfaction.
A new play had just been acted, and the conversation,
after a few preliminary hoverings, settled upon it
" Yon see," said the Duchesse, '' that tve have actons;
you authors; of what avail is it that you boast of m
Shakspeare, since your Lisetonf great as 'he is, cannot be
compared with our Talma?"
"And yet," said I, preserving my gravity with a perti-
nacity, which nearly made Yincent and the rest of our
compatriots assembled lose theirs, "Madame must allow
that there is a striking resemblance in their persons, and
the sublimity of their acting ? "
'* Four ga^ fen convienSf^^ replied this critique de VEcole
des Femmes. " Mais cependant Liseton n^ajpas la nature,
Vdme, la grandeur de Talma P^*
"And will you then allow us no actors of merit*/"
asked Yincent.
"Mais ouil — dans le genre comique, par exemjyle
voire buffo Kean met dixfois plus d' esprit et de drollerie
dans ses rSles que LaForte.^^f
"The impartial and profound judgment of Madame
admits of no further discussion on this point, ' said I.
* I grant that, bat Liston, however, has not the nature, the voul,
the grandeur, of Talma.
f Yes, in comedy, for instance, your Kean has ten times anort
fi?acity and drollery than La Porte.
108 pelhah; or,
" What does she think of the present state of onr dramatie
literature f "
"Why," replied Madame, " you have many great poets;
but when they write for the stage, they lose themselves
entirely : your Valter Scote's play of Robe Roi is very
inferior to his novel of the same name."
" It is a great pity," said I, '' that Byron did not tarn
his Childe Harold into a tragedy — it has so much energy^
action — variety / "
"Very true," said Madame, with a sigh; "but the
tragedy is, after all, only suited to our nation — we alone
carry it to perfection."
"Yet," Said I, "Goldoni wrote a few fine tragediea.^
** Eh Men t " said Madame, " one rose does not constitute
A garden I "
And satisfied with this remark, lafemme savante tamed
to a celebrated traveller to discuss with him the chance of
discovering tho North Pole.
There weio one or two clever Englishmen present;
Vincent and I joined them.
"Have you met the Persian prince yet?" said Sir
Qeorge Lynton to me ; '' he is a man of much talent, and
great desire of knowledge. He intends to publish his
observations on Paris, and I suppose we shall have an
admirable supplement to Montesquieu's Letires Fer^
sannes I "
" I wish we had," said Vincent : " there are few better
satires on a civilized country than the observations of
visitors less polished ; while on the contrary the civilized
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 108
travelkr, in describing the manners of the Americaa
barbarian, instead of conveying ridicule npon the visited,
points the sarcasm on the visitor ; and Tacitus could not
have thought of a finer or nobler satire on the Roman
luxuries than that insinuated by his treatise on the German
simplicity.
"What," said Monsfeur d'B (an intelligent ci-
devant ^migr^), " what political writer is generally e8«
teemed as your best?"
" It is difficult to say," replied Vincent, " since with so
many parties we have many idols ; but I think I might
venture to name Bolingbroke as among the most popular.
Perhaps, indeed, it would be difficult to select a name
more frequently quoted and discussed than his ; and yet
his political works are not very valuable from political
knowledge: — they contain many lofty sentiments, and
many beautiful yet scattered truths ; but they were written
when legislation, most debated, was least understood, and
ought to be admired rather as excellent for the day than
admirable in themselves. The life of Bolingbroke would
convey a juster moral than all his writings : and the author
who gives us a full and impartial memoir of that extraor<
dinary man, will have afforded both to the philosophical
and political literature of England one of its greatest
desiderata."
" It seems to me," said Monsieur d'E , " that your
national literature is peculiarly deficient in biography —
am I right in my opinion ? "\
" Indubitably I " said Vincent ; " we have not a single
104 pelham; OB,
work that can be considered a model in biography (ex-
cepting, perhapSf Middleton's Life of Cicero). Thia
brings on a remark I have often made in distinguishing
your philosophy from ours. It seems to me that you who
excel so admirably in biography, memoirs, comedy, satirical
observation on peculiar classes, and pointed aphorisms,
are fonder of considering man in his relation to society
and the active commerce of the world, than in the more
abstracted and metaphysical operations of the mind. Our
writers, on the contrary, love to indulge rather in abstruse
speculations on their species — to regard man in an
abstract and isolated point of view, and to see him think
alone in his chamber, while you prefer beholding him tu^
with the multitude in the world."
" It must be allowed," said Monsieur d'B , "that if
this be true, our philosophy is the most useful, though
yours may be the most profound."
Vincent did not reply.
"Yet," said Sir George Lynton, " there will be a dis-
advantage attending your writings of this description,
which, by diminishing their general applicability, diminish
their general utility. Works which treat upon man in hiv
relation to society, can only be strictly applicable so long
as that relation to society treated upon continues. For
instance, the play which satirizes a particular class, how-
ever deep its reflections and accurate its knowledge upon
the subject satirized, must necessarily be obsolete when
the class itself has become so. The political pamphlet,
admirable for one state, may be absurd in another ; thf
ADVENTURES 07 A GENTLEMAN. 106
noYel which exactly delineates the present age may seem
strange and unfamiliar ^o the next ; and thns works which
treat of men relatively, and not man in se, must often con-
fine their popularity to the age and even the country in
which they were written. While on the other hand, the
work which treats of man himself, which seizes, discovers^
analyzes the human mind, as it is, whether in the ancient
or the modern, the savage or the European, must evidently
be applicable, and consequently useful, to all times and all
nations. He who discovers the circulation of the blood,
or the origin of ideas, must be a philosopher to every
people who have veins or ideas ; but he who even most
successfully delineates the manners of one country, or the
actions of one individual, is only the philosopher of a
single country, or a single age. If, Monsieur d'B ,
you will condescend to consider this, you will see perhaps
that the philosophy which treats of man in his relations
is not so useful, because neither so permanent nor so in-
variable, «s that which treats of man in himself."*
I was now somewhat weary of this conversation, and
though it was not yet twelve, I seized upon my appoint-
ment as an excuse to depart — accordingly I rose for that
purpose. "I suppose," said I to Vincent, "that you will
not leave your discussion."
" Pardon me," said he, ** amusement is quite as profit-
able to a man of sense as metaphysics. Allons,^'
* Yet Hume holds the contrary opinion to this, and considers a
good comeily more durable than a system of philosophy. Hume is
■nght, if by a system of philosophy is understood — a pile of guesse^
lOS pilham; OB,
CHAPTER XVII.
I was it this terrible sitaation when the basket stopped.
Oriental Tale* — Bittory of the BatkeL
We took our way to the street in which Madame Lan-
rent resided. Meanwhile suffer me to get rid of myself^
and to introduce you, dear Keader, to my friend, Monsieur
Margot, the whole of whose adventures were subsequently
detailed to me by the garrulous Mrs. Oreen.
At the hour appointed he knocked at the door of my
fair countrywoman, and was carefully admitted. He was
attired in a dressing-gown of sea-green silk, in which his
long, lean, hungry body, looked more like a starved pike
than any thing human.
" Madame," said he, with a solemn air, " I return yoa
my best thanks for the honor you have done me — behold
me at your feet I " — and so saying, the lean lover gravely
knelt down on one knee.
'' Rise, sir," said Mrs. Oreen, '* I confess that you have
false but plausible, set up by one age to be destroyed by the next.
Ingenuity cannot rescue error from obliyion ; but the moment Wis-
dom has discovered Truth, she has obtained immortality.— But is
Hume right when he suggests that there may come a time when
Addison will be read with delight, but Locke be utterly forgotten ?
For my part, if the two were to be matched for posterity, I think
the odds would be in favor of Locke. I very much doubt whether
five hundred years hence, Addison will be read at all, and I am quite
sure that, a thousand years hence, Locke will not be forgotten.
ABYENTUBES OF A GENTLEMAN. 101
won my heart ; but that is not all — yon have yet to show
that yon are worthy of the opinion I have formed of yon.
It is not, Monsieur Margot, your person that has won
me — no : it is your chivalrous and noble sentiments — >
prove that these are genuine, and you may command all
from my admiration."
''In what manner shall I prove it, madame?" said
Monsieur Margot, rising, and gracefully drawing his sea-
green gown more closely round him.
"B5 your courage, your devotion, and your gallantry 1
I ask but one proof — you can give it me on the spot.
You remember, monsieur, that in the days of romance, a
lady threw her glove upon the stage on which a lion was
exhibited, and told her lover to pick it up. Monsieur
Margot, the trial to which I shall put you is less severe.
Looky (and Mrs, Green threw open the window) — look,
I throw my glove out into the street — descend for it."
"Your commands are my law," said the romantic
Margot. '' I will go forthwith," and so saying, he went
to the door.
** Hold, sir I " said the lady, ** it is not by that simple
manner that you are to descend — you must go the same
way as my glove, out of the window,^^
" Out of the window, madame 1 " said Monsieur Margot,
with astonished solemnity; ''that is impossible, because
this apartment is three stories high, and consequently 1
shall be dashed to pieces."
"By no means," answered the dame ; "in that corner
of the room taere is a basket, to which (already foreseeing
108 PELHAM; OR,
yonr determination) I have affixed a rope ; by that basket
jon shall descend. See, monsienr, what expedients a
provident love can suggest."
" H — e — m 1 " said, very slowly, Monsieur Margot, by
no means liking the airy voyage imposed upon him ; " but
the rope may break, or your hand may suffer it to slip."
" Feel the rope," cried the lady, " to satisfy you as to
your first doubt ; and, as to the second, can you — can
you imagine that my affections would not make me twice
as careful of your person as of my own J Fie 1 ungrateful
Monsieur Margot I fie 1 "
The melancholy chevalier cast a rueful look at the
basket. "Madame," said he, "I own that I am very
averse to the plan you propose : suffer me to go down
stairs in the ordinary way ; your glove can be easily picked
up whether your adorer goes out of the door or the win-
dow. It is only, madame, when ordinary means fail, that
we should have recourse to the extraordinary."
** Begone, sir I " exclaimed Mrs. Green — " begone 1 I
now perceive that your chivalry was only a pretence.
Fool that I was, to love you as I have done 1 — fool that
I was, to imagine a hero Where I now find a "
"Pause, madame, I will obey you — my heart is firm-
see that the rope is 1 "
" Gallant Monsieur Margot 1 " cried the lady : and
going to her dressing-room, she called her woman to her
assistance. The rope was of the most unquestionable
thickness, the basket of the most capacious dimensions.
ADVENTURES OF A QENTLXMAN. 101
The former was fastened to a strong hook — and the latter
lowered.
"I go, madame," said Monsieur Margot, feeling the
rope ; '' but it reallj is a most dangerous exploit."
" Go, monsieur ! and St. Louis befriend you I "
"Stop I "said Monsieur Margot, "let me fetch my
coat: the night is cold, and my dressing-gown thin."
" Nay, nay, my chevalier," returned the dame, " I love
you in that gown ; it gives you an air of grace and d:g-
nity quite enchanting."
''It will give me my death of cold, madame," said
Monsieur Margot, earnestly.
"Bahl" said the Englishwoman : "what knight ever
feared cold ? Besides, you mistake ; the night is warm,
and you look so handsome in your gown."
" Do 1 1 " said the vain Monsieur Margot, with an iron
expression of satisfaction. " If that is the case, I will
mind.it less ; but may I return by the door ? "
" Yes," replied the lady ; " you see that I do not re-
quire too much from your devotion — enter."
"Behold me!" said the French master, inserting his
body into the basket, which immediately began to descend.
The hour and the police of course made the street
empty; the lady^s handkerchief waved in token of en-
couragement and triumph. When the basket was within
five yards of, the ground, Mrs. Green cried to her lover,
who had hitherto been elevating his serious countenance
towards her, in sober, yet gallant sadness —
"Look, look, monsieur — straight before you."
L— 10
no pelham; OB,
The lover turned round, as rapidly as his habits wooM
allow bim, and at that instant the window was shat, the
light extinguished, and the basket arrested. There stood
Monsieur Margot upright in the basket, and there stopped
the basket, motionless in the air I
What were the exact reflections of Monsieur Margot,
in that position, I cannot pretend to determine, because
he never favored me with them ; but about an hour after-
wards, Yincent and I (who had been delayed on the road),
strolling up the street, according to our appointment,
perceived, by the dim lamps, some opaque body leaning
against the wall of Madame Laurent's house, at about the
distance of fifteen feet from the ground:
We hastened our steps towards it; a measured and
serious voice, which I well knew, accosted us —
''For God's sake, gentlemen, procure me assistance.
I am the victim of a perfidious woman, and expect every
moment to be precipitated to the earth."
" Good heavens I " said I, " surely it is Monsieur Mar-
got whom I hear. What are you doing there ? "
" Shivering with cold," answered Monsieur Margot in
a tone tremulously slow.
** But what are you in f for I can see nothing but a
dark substance."
** I am in a basket," replied Monsieur Margot, " and I
should be very much obliged to you to let me out of it"
" Well — indeed," said Vincent (for I was too much
engaged in laughing to give a ready reply), ** your Chd-
teaU'Margot has but a cool cellar. But there are somn
ABYENTURXfi OF A OENTLBMAN. Ill
things in the world easier said than done. How are we
to remove jou to a more desirable place f"
''Ah," returned Monsieur Margot, " how indeed 1 There
is, to be sure, a ladder in the porter's lodge long enough
to deliver me ; but then, think of the gibes and jeers of
the porter I — it will get wind — I shall be ridiculed,
gentlemen — I shall be ridiculed — and what is worse, I
shall lose my pupils."
" Mj good friend," said I, " you had better lose your
pupils than your life ; and the day-light will soon come,
and then, instead of being ridiculed by the porter, you
will be ridiculed by the whole street I"
Monsieur Margot groaned. ** Go, then, my friend,"
sud he, *' procure the ladder I Oh, those she devils I —
what could make me such a fool I "
Whilst Monsieur Margot was venting his spleen in a
scarcely articulate mutter, we repaired to the lodge,
knocked up the porter, communicated the accident^ trnd
procured the ladder. However, an observant eye had
been kept upon our proceedings, and the window above
was re-opened, though so silently that I only perceived
the action. The porter, a jolly, bluff, hearty-looking fel
low, stood grinning below with a lantern, while we set the
ladder (which only just reached the basket) against the
wall.
The chevalier looked wistfully forth, and then, by the
light of the lantern, we had a fair view of his ridiculous
figare. His teeth chattered wofully, and the united cold
without and anxiety within, threw a double sadness and
112 pelham; or,
solemnity npon his withered coantenance. The night was
very windy, and every instant a rapid current seized the
unhappy sea-green vesture, whirled it in the air, and threw
it, as if in scorn, over the very face of the miserable pro-
fessor. The constant recurrence of this sportive irrever-
ence of the gales — the high sides of the basket, and the
trembling agitation of the inmate, never too agile, ren-
dered it a work of some time for Monsieur Margot to
transfer himself from the basket to the ladder. At length,
he had fairly got out one thin, shivering leg.
"Thank Heaven !" said the pious professor — when at
that instant the thanksgiving was checked, and, to Mon-
sieur Margot's inexpressible astonishment and dismay, the
basket rose five feet from the ladder, leaving its tenant
with one leg dangling out, like a flag from a balloon.
The ascent was too rapid to allow Monsieur Margot
even time for an exclamation, and it was not till he had
had sufficient leisure in his present elevation to perceive all
its consequences, that he found words to say, with the
most earnest tone of thoughtful lamentation, " One could
not have foreseen this 1 — it is really extremely distressing
— would to Heaven that I could get my leg in, or my
body out ! "
While we were yet too convulsed with laughter to make
.any comment upon the unlooked-for ascent of the luminous
Monsieur Margot, the basket descended with such force
as to dash the lantern out of the hand of the porter, and
to bring the professor so precipitately to the ground, that
all the bones in his skin rattled audibly.
aaivbntureb or a gkntliman. IIS
"Ifon Dieu/^^ said he, " I am done for! Be witness
how inhumanly I have been murdered."
We pulled him out of the basket, and carried him
between us into the porter's lodge. But the woes of
Monsieur Margot were not yet at their termination. The
room was crowded. There was Madame Laurent, — there
was the German count, whom the professor was teaching
French — there was the French viscount, whom he was
teaching German — there were all his fellow-lodgers, the
ladies whom he had boasted of, the men he had boasted
to. Don Juan, in the infernal regions, could not have
met wit& a more unwelcome set of old acquaintances than
Monsieur Margot had the happiness of opening his be-
wildered eyes upon in the porter's lodge.
"What I" cried they all, "Monsieur Margot, is that
you who have been frightening us so ? We thought the
house was attacked. The Russian general is at this very
moment loading his pistols ; lacky for you that you did
not choose to stay longer in that situation. Pray, mon-
sieur, what could indnce you to exhibit yourself so, in
your dressing-gown too, and the night so cold ? Ar'n^t
you ashamed of yourself?"
All this, and infinitely more, was levelled against the
miserable professor, who stood shivering with cold and
fright; and turning his eyes first on one, and then on
another, as the exclamations circulated round the room.
"I do assure you " at length he began.
" No, no," cried one, " it is of no use explaining now 1 "
10* fl
114 pelham; OB,
" Mais, Messieura ^-^-^ qaerulouslj recommenced the
unhappy Margot.
'' Hold your tongae," exclaimed Madame Laurent, ''you
have been disgracing my house."
**Mai8, Madame, icotUez-moi ^^
•* No, no," cried the German, " we saw yon— we saw
you."
*^ Mais, Monsieur le Comte "
" Fie, fie I " cried the Frenchman.
** Mais, Monsieur le ViconUe "
At this every tnouth was opened, and the patience of
Monsieur Margot being by this time exhausted, he flew into
a violent rage ; his tormentors pretended an equal indig-
nation, and at length he fought his way out of the room,
as fast as his shattered bones would allow him, followed
by the whole body, screaming, and shouting, and scolding,
and laughing after him.
The next morning passed without my usual lesson Arom
Monsieur Margot ; that was natural enough ; but when
the next day, and the next, rolled on, and brought neither
Monsieur Margot nor his excuse, I began to be uneasy
for the poor man. Accordingly I sent to Madame Lau-
rent's house to inquire after him : judge of my surprise
at hearing that he had, early the day after his adventure,
left his lodgings with his small possession of books and
clothes, leaving only a note to Madame Laurent, enclos-
ing the amount of his debt to her, and that none had
since seen or heard of him.
From that day to this I have never once beheld him.
ADVENTURES 07 A GXNTLIMAN. 116
The poor professor lost eren the little money due to him
for his lessons — so true is it, that in a man of Monsieur
Magot's temper, eyen interest is a subordinate passion tf
vanity I
CHAPTER XVIII-
It is good to be merry and wise,
It 's good to be honest and tnie ;
It is good to be off with the old love,
Before yon be on with the new. — Song,
One morning, when I was riding to the ^ois de
Boulogne^ (the celebrated place of assignation), in order
to meet Madame d'Anyille, I saw a lady on horseback, in
the most imminent danger of being thrown. Her horse
had taken fright at an English tandem, or its driver, and
was plunging violently; the lady was evidently much
frightened, andJost her presence of mind more and more
every moment. A man who was with her, and who could
scarcely manage his own horse, appeared to be exceed-
ingly desirous, but perfectly unable, to assist her ; and a
great number of people were looking on, doing nothing,
and saying, " Mon JDieu, how dangerous I "
I have always had a great horror of being a hero in
scenes, and a still greater antipathy to "females in dis*
irens,^^ However, so great is the effect of sympathy upon
the most hardened of us, that I stopped for a few moments,
first to look on, and secondly to assist Just when a
11^ PELHAM; OB,
moment's delay might have been dangerous, I threw
myself off my horse, seized her's with one hand, by the
rein which she no longer had the strength to hold, and
assisted her with the other to dismount. When all the
peril was over, Monsieur, her companion, managed also
to find his legs ; and I did not, I confess, wonder at his
previous delay, when I discovered that the lady in danger
had been his wife. He gave me a profusion of thanks,
and she made them more than complimentary by the glance
which accompanied them. Their carriage was in attend-
ance at a short distance behind. The husband went for
it — I remained with the lady.
" Mr. Pelham," she said, " I have heard much of you
from my friend Madame d'Anville, and have long been
anxious for your acquaintance. I did not think I should
commence it with so great an obligation."
Flattered by being already known by name, and a sub-
ject of previous interest, you may be sure that I tried
every method to improve the opportunity I had gained ;
and when I handed my new acquaintance into her carriage,
my pressure of her hand was somewhat more than slightly
returned.
" Shall you be at the English ambassador's to-night f "
said the lady, as they were about to shut the door of the
carriage.
" Certainly, if you are to be there," was my answer.
" We shall meet then," said Madame, and her look said
more,
I rode into the Bois ; and giving my horse to my ser-
ADYENTTJRSS OF A GENTLEMAN. 117
tant, as I came near Passy, where I was to meet Ma-
dame d'Anyille, I proceeded thither on foot I was just
in sight of the spot, and indeed of my inamorcUa, when
two men passed, talking very earnestly; they did not
remark me, bat what individual conld ever escape my
notice ? The one was Thornton ; the other — who conld
he be? Where had I seen that pale and remarkable
countenance before ? I looked again. I was satisfied
that I was mistaken in my first thought ; th^ hair was of
a completely different color. " No, no," said I, " it is not
he : yet how like ! "
I was distrait and absent during the whole time I was
with Madame d'Anville. The face of Thornton's com-
panion haunted me like a dream ; and, to say the truth,
there were also moments when the recollection of my new
engagement for the evening made me tired with that which
I was enjoying the troublesome honor of keeping.
Madame d'Anville was not slow in perceiving the cold-
ness of my behavior. Though a Frenchwoman, she was
rather grieved than resentful.
" You are growing tired of me, my friend," she said ;
"and when I consider your youth and temptations, I
cannot be surprised at it — yet, I own, that this thought
gives me much greater pain than I could have supposed."
"Bah ! rr\fi belle amie,^^ cried I, "you deceive yourself
i— I adore you — I shall always adore you ; but it's get-
ting very late I "
Madame d'Anville sighed, and we parted. "She is
not half RO pretty or agreeable as she was," thought I, as
118 PXLHAM; OB,
I mounted mj horse, and remembered mj appointment al
the ambassador's.
I took nnnsual pains with my appearance that evening,
and drove to the ambassador's hotel in the Rne Faubourg
St Honors, full half an hour earlier than I had ever done
before, I had been some time in the rooms without di»*
covering my heroine of the morning. The Duchess of
H n passed by.
" What a wonderfully beautiful woman I " said Mr.
Howard de Howard, a lean gentleman, who valued him-
self on his ancestors, to Mr. Aberton.
"Ay," answered Aberton, "but to my taste, the Duch-
esse de Perpignan is quite equal to her — do yon know
herV'
it No — yes I " said Mr. Howard de Howard ; " that is,
not exactly — not well." An Englishman never owns
that he does not know a duchess.
" Hem 1 " said Mr. Aberton, thrusting his large hand
through his lank light hair. " Hem — could one do any
thing, do you think, in that quarter?"
"I should think one might, with a tolerable person I"
answered the spectral aristocrat, looking down at a pair
of most shadowy supporters.
"Pray," said Aberton, "what do you think of Miss
? they say she is an heiress."
"Think of her I" said Mr. Howard de Howard, who
cas as poor as he was thin, " why, I hxive thought of her I ^
"They say that fool Pelham makes up to her." (Little
ABVBNTUB18 01 A GXNTLEMAN. 119
did Mr. Aberton imagine, when he made this remark, that
I was close behind him.)
"I shonld not imagine that was tme," said the secre-
tary; "he is so occupied with Madame d'Anville."
" Pooh 1 " said Aberton, dictatoriallj, ** she never had
an J thing to say to him."
" Why are you so sure f " said Mr. Howard de Howard.
" Why — because he never showed any notes from her,
nor ever even said he had a liaison with her 1 "
"Ah I that is quite enough ! " said Mr. Howard de
Howard. " But, is not that the Duchesse de Perpignan ? ^
Mr. Aberton turned, and so did I — our eyes met — his
fell — well they might, after his courteous epithet to my
name ; however, I had far too good an opinion of myself
to care one straw about his ; besides, at that moment, I
was wholly lost in my surprise and pleasure, in finding
that this Duchesse de Perpignan was no other than my
acquaintance of the morning. She caught my gaze and
smiled as she bowed. " Now," thought I, as I approached
her, "let us see if we cannot eclipse Mr. Aberton."
All love-making is just the same, and, therefore, I shall
spare the reader my conversation that evening. When
he recollects that it was Henry Pelham who was the
gallant, I am persuaded that he will be pretty certain as
to the saccess.
tMO pxlham; 0B9
CHAPTER XIX.
Alea seqna voraz species certissima furti
Non contenta bonis, animum quoqne perfida mergit ; —
Furca, furax — infamis, iners, furiosa, mina.* — Petr. Dtel
I DINED the next day at the Fr^res ProyeD9anx ; an
excellent restaurateur's, by-the-by, where one gets irre-
proachable gibier, and meets few English, f After dinner,
I strolled into the yarious gambling-houses, with which
the Palais Rpyal abonnds.
In one of these the crowd and heat were so great, that
I should immediately have retired if I had not been struck
with the intense expression of interest in the countenance
of one of the spectators at the rouge et noir table. He
was a man about forty years of age ; his complexion was
dark and sallow ; the features prominent, and what are
generally called handsome ; but there was a certain sinis-
ter expression in his eyes and mouth, which rendered the
effect of his physiognomy rather disagreeable than pre-
possessing. At a small distance from him, and playing,
* Gaming, that direst felon of the breast,
Steals more than fortune from its wretched thrall,
Spreads o'er the sonl the inert deyonring pest,
And gaaws, and rots, and taints, and ruins all. — Paraphbasb.
f Mr. Pelbam could not say as muchi for the Frh'tt Proven^^nM
at present!
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. i2l
with an air which, in its carelessness and nonchaJance,
formed a remarkable contrast to the painful anxiety of
the man I have jast described, sate Mr. Thornton. *
At first sight, these two appeared to be the only
Englishmen present beside myself; I was more struck by
seeing the former in that scene than I was at meeting
Thornton there ; for there was something distinguished
in the mien of the stranger, which suited far worse with
the appearance of the place, than the air and dress of my
ci-devant second.
*^ What 1 another Englishman ? " thought I, as I turned
round and perceived a thick, rough great-coat, which
could possibly belong to no continental shoulders. The
wearer was standing directly opposite the seat of the
swarthy stranger ; his hat was slouched over his face ; I
moved in order to get a clearer view of his countenance.
It was the same person I had seen with Thornton that
morning. Never to this moment have I forgotten the
stern and ferocious expression with which he was gazing
upon the keen and agitated features of the gambler oppo-
site. In the eye and lip there was neither pleasure, hatred,
nor scorn, in their simple and unalloyed elements; but
each seemed blent and mingled into one deadly concen-
tration of evil passions.
This man neither played, nor spoke, nor moved. He
appeared utterly insensible of every feeling in common
with those around. There he stood, wrapped in his own
dark and inscrutable thoughts, never, for oqc instant,
taking his looks from the varying countenance which did
L— 11
188 felham; oS|
not obserye their gaze, nor altering the withering character
of their almost demoniacal expression. I could not tear
myself from the spot. I felt chained by some mysterious
and undefinable interest ; my attention was first diverted
into a new channel, by a loud exclamation from the dark-
visaged gambler at the table ; it was the first he had
uttered, notwithstanding his anxiety ; and, from the deep,
thrilling tone in which it was expressed, it conveyed a
keen sympathy with the overcharged feelings which it
burst from.
With a trembling hand, he took from an old purse the
few Napoleons that were still left there. He set them
all at one hazard on the rouge. He hung over the table
with a dropping lip ; his hands were tightly clasped in
each other ; his nerves seemed strained into the last agony
of excitation. I ventured to raise my eyes upon the gaze,
which I felt must still be upon the gambler — there it was
fixed, and stern as before I — but it now conveyed a
deeper expression of joy than it had hitherto assumed ;
yet a joy so malignant and fiendish, that no look of mere
anger or hatred could have equally chilled my heart. I
dropped my eyes. I redoubled my attention to the cards
' — the last two were to be turned up. A moment more I
— the fortune was to the noir. The stranger had lost I
He did not utter a single word. He looked with a vacant
eye on the long mace, with which the marker had swept
away his last hopes, with his last coin, and then, rising, left
the room,^nd disappeared.
The other Englishman was not long in following hiia
ADYXNTURES 01 A OXNTLEMAN. Ii3^
He Uttered a short, low laugh, unheard, perhaps, by any
one but myself ; and, pushing through the atmosphere of
uteris f and mille tonnerrea ! which filled that pandemo-
tium, strode qaickly to the door. I felt as if a load had
)een taken from my bosom^ when he was gone.
CHAPTER XX.
Reddere personss soit convenientia oaiqae. * — Hos. Ar% PotL
I WAS loitering over my breakfast the next morning,
and thinking of the last night's scene, when Lord Yincent
was announced.
'' How fares the gallant Pelham ? " said he, as he entered
the room.
•' Why, to say the truth," I replied, " I am rather under
the influence of blue devils this morning, and your visit is
like a sun-beam in November."
"A bright thought," said Vincent, *' and I shall make
you a very pretty little poet soon ; publish you in a neat
octavo, and dedicate you to Lady D re. Pray, by-
the-by, have you ever read her plays ? You know they
were only privately printed?"
"No," said I, (for in good truth, had his lordship
interrogated me touching any other literary production,
* The appropriate justice sorts each shade and hue,
Aid gives to each the exact proportion due. — Pabaphbasb.
184 pelham; OB,
I shonld have esteemed it a part of my present character
to return the same answer).
" No I "repeated Vincent ; " permit me to tell you, thai
you must never seem ignorant of any work not published.
To be admired, one mast always know what other people
don't — and then one has full liberty to sneer at the value
of what other people do know. Renounce the threshold
of knowledge. There, every new proselyte can meet you.
Boast of your acquaintance with the sanctum, and not one
in .ten thousand can dispute it with you. Have you read
Monsieur de C 's pamphlet?"
"Really," said I, "I have been so busy I"
"-4A, mon ami/^^ cried Vincent, " the greatest sign of
an idle man is to complain of being busy. But you have
had a loss : the pamphlet is good. C , by the way,
has an extraordinary, though not an expanded niind : it
is like a citizen's garden near London ; a pretty parterre
here, and a Chinese pagoda there ; an oak tree in one
corner, and a mushroom bed in the other : and above all, a
Gothic Ruin opposite the bay-window I You may traverse
the whole in a stride ; it is the four quarters of the globe
in a mole-hill. Yet everything is good in its kind ; and is
neither without elegance nor design in its arrangement."
" What do you think," said I, " of the Barron de i ■
the minister of '• f "
** Of him 1 " replied Vincent —
'His son]
Still sits at squat, and peeps not from its hole.'
It is dark and bewildered — full of dim visions of tht
aDYENTTJRES of a aSNTLEMAN. 125
ancient rigime ; — it is a bat hovering about the cells of
an old abbej. Poor, antique little soal 1 but I will say
Dothing more about it —
*For who would be satirical
Upon a thing so yery small'
s8 the soul of the Baron de 1 "
Finding Lord Vincent so disposed to the biting mood,
1 immediately directed his rabies towards Mr. Aberton.
"Aberton," said Vincent, in answer to my question, if
he knew that amiable young gentleman — " Yes I a sort
of man who, speaking of the best society, says we — who
sticks his best cards on his chimney-piece, and writes himself
billetS'dotix from duchesses, A duodecimo of ' precious
conceits,' bound in calf-skin — I know the man well ; does
he not dress decently, Pelham?"
" His clothes are well made," said I, candidly.
"Ah I " said Vincent, " I should think he went to the
best tailor, and said, * Give me a collar like Lord So and
Bo's,' ; one who would not dare to have a new waistcoat
till it had been authoritatively patronized, and who took
his fashions, like his follies, from the best proficients.
Such fellows are always too ashamed of themselves not
to be proud of their clothes ; — like the Chinese mariners,
they bum incense be/ore the needle P*
"And Mr. Howard de Howard," said I, laughing,
" what do you think of him ? "
" What I the thin Eupatrid ? " cried Vincent " He is
the mathematical definition of a straight line — length
wUhotU breadth. His inseparable friend, Mr. Aberton,
11*
1S6 P£LHAMj OR,
was running np the Rue St. Honord yesterday in order to
catch him, and when I saw him chasing that meagre
apparition, I said to Bennington, ' I have found out the
•
real Peter Schlemil I » ' Whom ? ' (asked his grave lord-
ship, with serious naivety — 'Mr. Aberton,'said I; 'don't
you see him running after his shadow ?' But the pride
Df the lean thing is so amusing I He ip fifteenth cousin
to the duke, and so his favorite exordium is ' Whenever
I succeed to the titles of my ancestors.' It was but the
other day, that he heard two or three silly young men
discussing church and state, and they began by talking
irreligion — (Mr. Howard de Howard is too unsubstantial
not to be spiritually inclined) — however he only fidgeted
in his chair. They then proceeded to be exceedingly
disloyal. Mr. Howard de Howard fidgeted again. They
then passed to vituperations on the aristocracy ; — this
the attenuated pomposity (magni nominis umbra) could
brook no longer. He rose np, cast a severe look on the
abashed youths, and thus addressed them — ' Gentlemen,
I have sate by in silence, and heard my King derided, and
my God blasphemed ; but now when you attack the aris-
«
tocracy, I can no longer refrain from noticing so obviously
intentional an insult. Tou have become personal,^ "
** Pray, Vincent," said I, after a short pause, "did yoi
ever meet with a Mr. Thornton at Paris ? *'
" Thornton, Thornton," said Vincent, musingly ; " wha^
Tom Thornton?"
" I should think, very likely," I replied ; "just the sOit
of man who would be Tom Thornton — has a broad face.
ADVENTUBE8 OF A GBNTLKMAN. 121
with a color, and wears a spotted neckcloth ; Tom — what
could his name be but Tom ? "
*' Is he about five-and-thirty ? " asked Vincent, *' rather
ibort, and with reddish-colored hair and whiskers ? "
'* Precisely," said I ; " are not all Toms alike f "
"Ah," said Vincent, "I know him Well : he Is a clever,
shrewd fellow, but a most unmitigated rascal. He is the
son of a steward in Lancashire, and received an attorney's
education ; but being a humorous, noisy fellow, he became
a great favorite with his father's employer, who was a sort
of Mecffinas to cudgel-players, boxers, and horse-jockeys.
At his house, Thornton met many persons of rank, bat
of a taste similar to their host's ; and they, mistaking his
vulgar coarseness for honesty, and his quaint proverbs
for wit, admitted him into their society. It was with one-
of them that I have seen him. I believe of late, that his
character has been of a very indifferent odor : and what-
ever has brought him among the English at Paris — those
white-washed abominations — those * innocent blacknesses,'
as Charles Lamb calls chimney-sweepers, it does not argue
well for his professional occupations. I should think
however, that he manages to live here ; for wherever there
are English fools, there are fine pickings for an English
rogue."
''Ay," said I, " but are there enough fools here to feed
the rogues?"
' Yes, because rogues are like spiders, and eat each
other, when there is nothing else to catch ; and Tom
Thoraton is safe, as long as the ordinary law of nature
128 pelham; or,
lasts, that the greater knave preys on the lesser, — for
there cannot possibly be a greater knave than he is I If
yoa have made his acquaintance, my dear Pelham, I advise
you most soberly to look to yourself, for if he doth not
steal, beg, or borrow of you, Mr. Howard de Howard
will grow fat, and even Mr. Aberton cease to be a fool.
And now, most noble Pelham, farewell. II est plus ais^
dPitre sage pour les aulres que de Vitrepour soi-mime.^^ *
CHAPTER XXI.
This is a notable couple — and have met
But for some secret knavery. — 7%* Tanner of Tyburn,
I HAD now been several weeks in Paris, and I was not
altogether dissatisfied with the manner in which they had
been spent. I had enjoyed myself to the utmost, while
I had, as much as possible, combined profit with pleasure ;
viz., if I went to the Opera in the evening, I learned to
dance in the morning ; if I drove to a soiree at the
Duchesse de Perpignan's, it was not till I had fenced an
hour at the Salon des Assauts d^Armes; in short, I took
the greatest. pains to complete my education. — I wish all
young men who frequented the Continent for that purpose
could say the samel
One day (about a week after the conversation witli
* It is more easy to be wise for others than for oneself.
ABYSNTUBSS OF A GENTLEMAN. 129
Vincent, recorded in my last chapter) I was walking
slowlj along one of the paths in the Jardin des PlanteSf
meditating upon the yarioas excellencies of the Mocker
de Cancale and the Dachesse de Perpignan, when I
perceived a tall man, with a thick, rongh coat, of a dark
color (which I recognized long before I did the face of
the wearer) emerging from an intersecting path. He
stopped a few moments, and looked aroand as if expecting
some one. Presently a woman, apparently about thirty,
and meanly dressed, appeared in an opposite direction.
She approached him ; they exchanged a few words, and
then, the woman taking his arm, they struck into another
path, and were soon out of sight. I suppose that the
reader has already discovered that this man was Thornton's
companion in the Bois de Boulogne, and the hero of the
gaming-house, in the Palais Royal, I could not have
supposed that so noble a countenance, even in its frowns,
could ever have wasted its smiles upon a mistress of the
low station to which the woman who had met him evi-
dently belonged. However, we all have our little foibles,
hs the Frenchman said, when he boiled his grandmother's
head in a pipkin.
I myself was, at that time, the sort of person that is
always taken by a pretty face, however coarse may be the
garments whj>7h set it off; and although I cannot say that
I ever stooped so far as to become amorous of a cham-
bermaid, yet I could be tolerably lenient to any man under
thirty who did. As a proof of this gentleness of dispo-
ilt'oni ten minutes after I had witnessed so unsuitable a
1
130 PELHAM; OB,
rencontref I found myself following a pretty little grisette
into a small sort of cabaret, which was, at the time I speak
of (and most probably still is), in the midst of the gardens.
I sat down, and called for my favorite drink of lemonade :
the little grisette, who was with an old woman, possibly
her mother, and un beau gros gargon, probably her lover,
sat opposite, and began, with all the ineffable coquetries
of her country, to divide her attention between the said
gargon and myself. Poor fellow, he seemed to be very
little pleased by the significant glances exchanged over
his right shoulder, and at last, under pretence of screen-
ing her from the draught of the opened window, placed
himself exactly between us. This, however ingenious, did
not at all answer his expectations ; for he had not suffi-
ciently taken into consideration, that /also was endowed
with the power of locomotion ; accordingly I shifted my
chair about three feet, and entirely defeated the counter
march of the enemy.
But this flirtation did not last long ; the youth and the
old woman appeared very much of the same opinion as to
its impropriety; and accordingly, like experienced generals,
resolved to conquer by a retreat ; they drank up their
orgeat — paid for it — placed the wavering regiment in
the middle, and then quitted the field. I was not, howeve:,
of a disposition to break my heart at such an occurrence,
and I remained by the window, drinking my lemonade,
and muttering to myself, *' After all, women are a bore ! "
On the outside of the cabaret, and just under my window,
was a bench, which, for a certain number of 80U8, one
ADVElfTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 13)
might appropriate to the entire and nnparticipated ase of
one's-self and party. An old woman (so at least I suppose
by her voice, for I did not give myself the trouble of look-
ing,— though, indeed as to that matter, it might have
been the shrill treble of Mr. Howard dc Howard !) had
been hitherto engrossing this settlement with some galUnt
or other. In Paris, no woman is too old to get an amarU,
either by love or money. This couple soon paired oflF,
and was immediately succeeded by another. The first
tones of the man's voice, low as they were, made me start
from my seat. I cast one quick glance before I resumed it.
The new pair were the Englishman I had before noted in
the garden, and the female companion who had joined him.
" Two hundred pounds, yon say ? " muttered the man ;
"we must have it all."
''But," returned the woman, in the same whispered
iroice, "he says, that he will never touch another card."
The man laughed. " Fool," said he, " the passions are
not so easily quelled — how many days is it since he had
this remittance from England?"
"About three," replied the woman.
"And is it absolutely the very last remnant of his
property ? "
"The last."
" I am then to understand, that when this is spent there
is nothing between him and beggary ? "
"Nothing," said the woman, with a half sigh.
The man laughed again, and then rejoined in an altered
tone, " Then, then will this parching thirst be quenched
188 pelham; ob,
at last. I tell you, woman, that it is many months since
I have known a day — night — hour, in which my life has
been as the life of other men. My whole soul has been
melted down into one burning, burning thought. Feel
this hand — ay, yon may well start — but what is the fever
of the frame to that within ? "
Here the voice sank so low as to be inaudible. The
woman seemed as if endeavoring to soothe him ; at length
he said —
" But poor Tyrrell — you will not, surely, suffer him to
starve, to die of actual want, abandoned and alone I "
"Alone ! no 1 " cried her companion, fiercely. " When
the last agonies shall be upon that man — when, sick with
weariness, pain, disease, hunger, he lies down to die —
when the death-gurgle is in the throat, and the eye swims
beneath the last dull film — when remembrance peoples
the chamber with Hell, and his cowardice would falter
forth its dastard recantation to Heaven — then — may I
be there P'
There was a long pause, only broken by the woman's
sobs, which she appeared endeavoring to stifle. At last
the man rose, and in a tone so soft that it seemed literally
like music, addressed her in the most endearing terms.
She soon yielded to their persuasion, and replied to them
with interest.
** Spite of the stings of my remorse," she said, "as long
as I lose not you, I will lose life, honor, hope, even sool
Itself 1 "
They both quitted the spot as she said this.
ADVXHTUBXS OI A aSMILSMAN. \Si
CHAPTER XXII.
At length the treacherous snare was laid,
Poor pug was caught — to town convey'd;
There sold. How enyied was his doom,
Made captive in a lady's room ! — Gat's Fabte§.
I WAS sitting alone a morning or two after this adyentare^
when Bedos, entering, announced une dame.
This dame was a fine tall thing, dressed oat like a print
in the Magaain dea Modes, She sate herself down, threw
ap her veil, and, after a momentary pause, asked me if I
liked my apartment?
" Yery much," said I, somewhat surpised at the nature
of the ..interrogatory.
"Perhaps you would wish it altered in some way?"
rejoined the lady.
" Non — Mille remercimena I " said I — " you are very
good to be so interested in my accommodation."
" Those curtains might be better arranged — that sofu
replaced with a more elegant one," continued my new
superintendent.
" Really," said I, " I am too, too much^flattered. Per*
haps you would like to have my rooms altogether ; if so,
make at least no scruple of saying it."
" Oh, no," replied the lady, " I have no objection to
your staying here,"
1—12
184 PELHAM; on.,
" You are too kind," said I, with a low bow.
There was paase of some moments — I took advantage
of it.
" I think, madame, 1 have the honor of speaking to —
to — to — "
" The mistress of the hotel," said the lady, qnietly. '* I
merely called to ask you how you did, and hope you were
well accommodated."
" Rather late, considering I hare been six weeks in the
house," thought I, revolving in my mind various reports
[ had heard of my present visitor's disposition to gallantry.
However, seeing it was all over with me, I resigned myself,
with the patience of a martyr, to the fate that I foresaw.
r rose, approached her chair, took her hand (very hard
and thin it was too), and thanked her with a most affec-
tionate squeeze.
" I have seen much English I " said the lady, for the first
time speaking in our language.
*?Ah !" said I, giving another squeeze.
" You are a handsome gargon^^'* renewed the lady.
"1 am so," I replied.
At that moment Bedos entered, and whispered that
Madame d'Anville was in the ante-room.
" Good Heavens 1 " said I, knowing her jealousy of
disposition, ** what is to be done ? Oblige me, madame,**
seizing the unfortunate mistress of the hotel, and opening
the door to the back entrance — "There," said I, "you
can easily escape. Bon jour.^^
▲ DVENTU£S8 OT A GENTLEMAN. 13&
Hardly bad I closed the door, and put the key in my
pocket, before Madame d'Anville entered.
*' Is it by yoar order that yonr servant keeps me waiting
in your ante -room J " said she, haughtily.
1 endeavored to make my peace ; but all my complais*
ance was in vain — she was jealous of my intimacy with
the Duchesse de Perpignan, and glad of any excuse to
vent her pique. Fortunately, however, she was going to
the Luxembourg ; and my only chance of soothing her
anger was to accompany her.
Down stairs, therefore, we went, and drove to the
Luxembourg ; I gave Bedos, before my departure, various
little commissions, and told him he need not be at home
till the evening. Long before the expiration of an hour,
Madame d'Anville's. ill-humor had given me an excuse for
affecting it myself. Tired to death of her, and panting
for release, I took a high tone — complained of her ill-
temper, and her want of love — spoke rapidly — waited
for no reply, and, leaving her at the Luxembourg, pro-
ceeded forthwith to Galignani's, like a man just delivered
from a strait-waistcoat.
Leave me now, for a few minutes, in the reading-room
at Qalignani's, and return to the mistress of the hotel,
whom I had so unceremoniously thrust out of my salon.
The passage into which she had been put communicated
by one door with my rooms, and by another with the
staircase. Now, it so happened, that Bedos was in the
habit of locking the latter door, and keeping the key ;
the other egress, it will be remembered, I myself had
13C pelham; or,
secured ; so that the nDfortnnate mistress of the hotel was
no sooner turned into this passage, than she fonnd herself
in a sort of dnngeon, ten feet by five, and surrounded, like
Eve in Paradise, by a whole creation — not of birds, beasts,
and fishes, but of brooms, brushes, linen for the laundress,
and — a wood basket I What she was to do in this di-
lemma was utterly inconceiyable ; seream, indeed, she
might, but then the shame and ridicule of being discov-
ered in so equivocal a situation, were somewhat more
than our discreet landlady could endure. Besides, such
an expose might be attended with a loss the good woman
valued more than reputation, viz., lodgers ; for the pos-
sessors of the two best floors were both Englishwomen
of a certain rank ; and my landlady had heard such
accounts of our national virtue, that she feared an instan-
taneous emigration of such inveterate prudes, if her screams
and situation reached their ears.
Quietly then, and soberly, did the good lady sit, eyeing
the brooms and brushes as they grew darker and darker
with the approach of the evening, and consoling herself
with the certainty that her release must eventually take
place.
Meanwhile, to return to myself — I found Lord Vincent
at Galignani's, carefully looking over " Choice Extracts
from the best English Authors."
"Ah, my good fellow 1 " said he," I am delighted to
see you : I made such a capital quotation just now : the
young Beuningtons were drowning a poor devil of a
puppy ; the youngest fto whom the mother belonged)
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 131
looked on with a grave, earnest face, till the last kick was
over, and then burst into tears. * Why do you cry so f *
said I. 'Because it was so cruel in us to drown the poor
puppy 1 " replied the juvenile Philocuuos. * Pooh 1 ' said
I ; " Quid juvat errores mersdjam piippe fateri ? " Was
it not good ? — you remember it in Claudian, eh, Pelham t
Think of its being thrown away on those Latinless young
lubbefs I Have you seen anything of Mr. Thornton
lately ? "
" No," said I, " I've not ; but I am determined to have
that pleasure soon.''
" You will do as you please," said Vincent, " but you
will be like the child playing with edged tools."
" I am not a child," said I, " so the simile is not good.
He must be the devil himself, or a Scotchman at least, to
take me in."
Yincent shook his head. " Come and dine with me at
the Rocher,"said he; "we are a party of six — choice
spirits all."
" Volontiers ; but we can stroll in the Tuileries first,
if you have no other engagement."
"None," said Yincent, putting his arm in mine.
After an hour's walk, Yincent suddenly recollected that
he had a commission of a very important nature in the
Rue J. J. Rousseau. This was — to buy a monkey. " It
is for Wormwood," said he, " who has written me a long
ietter, describing its qualities and qualifications. I suppose
be wants it for some practical joke — some embodied
12*
£88 pelham; or,
bitterness — Heaven forbid I should thwart him in so
charitable a design 1 "
"Amen," said I ; and we proceeded together to the
monkey-fancier. After mnch deliberation, we at last
decided upon the most hideous animal I ever beheld — it
was of a — no, I will not attempt to describe it — it would
be quite impossible 1 Yincent was so delighted with our
choice, that he insisted upon carrying it away immediately.*'
"Is it quite quiet?" I asked.
" Comme un oiseau," said the man.
We called & fiacre — paid for Monsieur Jocko, and
drove to Vincent's apartments ; there we found, however,
that his valet had gone out and taken the key.
" Hang it,'' said Vincent, "it does not signify 1 We'll
carry le petit-monsieur with us to the Rocher."
Accordingly we all three once more entered the ,/Jacre,
and drove to the celebrated restaurateur's of the Rue
Mont Orgueil. 0, blissful recollections of that dinner I
how at this moment you crowd upon my delighted remem-
brance 1 Lonely and sorrowful as I now sit, digesting
with many a throe the iron thews of a British beefsteak
'^more Anglico — immeasurably tough — I see the grateful
apparitions of Escallopes de Saumon and Laitances de
Carpes rise in a gentle vapor before my eyes 1 breathing
•
a STf'eet and pleasant odor, and contrasting the dream-like
delicacies of their hue and aspect, with the dire and dure
realities which now weigh so heavily on the region below
my heart 1 And thou, most beautiful of all — thou evening
Uar of entremets — thou that delightest in truffles, and
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 139
gloriest in a dark cloud of sauces — exquisite foie grcLS !
i— Have I forgotten thee ? Do I not, on the contrary,
see thee — smell thee — taste thee — and almost die with
rapture of thy possession ? What, though the goose, of
which thou art a part, has, indeed, been roasted alive by
a slow fire, in order to increase thy divine proportions —
yet has not our Almanack — the Almanack des Gour^
manda — truly declared that the goose rejoiced amid all
her tortures — because of the glory that awaited her t
Did she not, in prophetic vision, behold her enlarged and
ennobled foie dilate into pdUs and steam into savMs —
the companion of truffles — the glory of dishes — the
delight — the treasure — the transport of gourmands I
0, exalted among birds — apotheosized goose, did not
thy heart exult even when thy liver parched and swelled
within thee, from that most agonizing death ; and didst
thou not, like the Indian at the stake, triumph in the very
torments which alone could render thee illustrious ?
After dinner we grew exceedingly merry. Vincent
panned and quoted ; we laughed and applauded ; and our
Burgundy went round with an alacrity to which every
new joke gave an additional impetus. Monsieur Jocko
was by no means the dullest in the party ; he cracked his
nuts with as much grace as we did our jests, and grinned
and chattered as facetiously as the best of us. After
coffee we were all so pleased with one another, that we
resolved not to separate, and accordingly we adjourned
to my rooms. Jocko and all, to find new revelries and
grow brilliant over Cura9oa punch.
140 PELHAM; OB,
We entered inj salon with a roar, and set Bedos to
work at the pnnch forthwith. Bedos, that Ganymede of
a valet, had himself bat jnst arrived, aad was unlocking
the door as we entered. We soon blew up a glorious fire,
and our spirits brightened in proportion. Monsieur Jocko
sate on Vincent's knee — " Ne monstrom,'* as he classically
termed it. One of our compotatores was playing with
it. Jocko grew suddenly in earnest — a grin — a scratch,
and a bite, were the work of a moment.
" Ne quid nimis — now,*' said Vincent, gravely, instead
of endeavoring to soothe the afflicted party, who grew
into a towering passion. Nothing but Jocko's absolute
disgrace could indeed have saved his life from the ven-
geance of the sufferer.
"Whither shall we banish him ?" said Vincent.
"Oh," I replied, " put him out in that back passage;
the outer door is shut ; he'll be qaite safe ; ^' and to the
passage he was therefore immediately consigned.
It was in this place, the reader will remember, that the
hapless dame du Ch&teau was at that very instant in " du-
rance vile." Unconscious of this fact, I gave Bedos the
key, he took the condemned monkey, opened the door,
thrust Jocko in, and closed it again. Meanwhile we
resumed our merriment.
" Nunc est bibendum,^^ said Vincent, as Bedos placed
the punch on the table. " Give us a toast, Dartmore."
Lord Dartmore was a young man, with tremendouf
spirits, which made up for wit He was just about to
reply, when a loud shriek was heard from Jocko's plact
▲ DYSNTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 14\
of baDisbment : a sort of scramble ensued, and the next
moment the door was thrown violently open, and in rnshed
the terrified landlady, screaming like a sea-gull, and bear-
ing aloft upon her shoulder, from which *^ bad eminence''
he was grinning and chattering with the fury of fifty devils.
She ran twice round the room, and then sank on the floor
in hysterics, feigned or real. We lost no time in hastening
to her assistance ; but the warlike Jocko, still sitting upon
her, refused to permit one of us to approach. There he
sat, turning from side to side, showing his sharp, white
teeth, and uttering from time to time the most menacing
and diabolical sounds.
" What the deuce shall we do ? " cried Dartmore.
" Do f " said Vincent, who was convulsed with laughter,
and yet endeavoring to speak gravely ; " why, watch like
L. Opimius, ' ne qaid respublica detrimenti capereL ' *'
'* By Jove, Pelham, he will scratch out the lady's beaux
yettXf^^ cried the good-natured Dartmore, endeavoring to
seize the monkey by the tail, for which he very narrowly
escaped with an unmutilated visage. But the man who
had before suffered by Jocko's ferocity, and whose breast
was still swelling with revenge, was glad of so favorable
an opportunity and excuse for wreaking it. He seized
the poker, made three strides to Jocko, who set up an
ineffable cry of defiance — and with a single blow split
the skull of the unhappy monkey in twain. It fell with
one convulsion on the ground and gave up the ghost.
We then raised the unfortunate landlady, placed her
ou the sofa, and Dartmore administered a plentiful pota<
143 PELHAM; OB,
tion of the Gara9oa punch. By slow degrees she reyiycd,
gave three most doleful suspirations, and then, starting up
gazed wildly around her. Half of us were still laughing
— ^my unfortunate self among the number ; this the enraged
landlady no sooner perceived than she imagined herself
the victim of some preconcerted villany. Her lips trem-
bled with passion — she uttered the most dreadful impre-
cations ; and had I not retired into a corner, and armed
myself with the dead body of Jocko, which I wielded with
exceeding valor, she might, with the simple weapons with
which nature had provided her hands, have for ever de-
molished the loves and graces that abide in the face of
Henry Pelham.
When at last she saw that nothing hostile was at present
to Be effected, she drew herself up, and giving Bedos a
tremendous box on the ear, as he stood, grinning beside
her, marched out of the room.
We then again rallied around the table, more than ever
disposed to be brilliant, and kept up till day-break a con-
tinued fire of jests upon the heroine of the passage : **cum
qud (as Yincent happily observed) claudiJh^ advergk
innoxia simia faHsI**
ADVENTURXS OV A QSNTLEMAN US
CHAPTER XXIII.
Show me not thy painted beauties,
These impostares I defy. — Geobqk Withb&s.
The caye of Falri smelt not more delicately ; — on every side
Appeared the marks of drunkenness and gluttony. At the upper
end of the caye the sorcerer lay extended, &c.
Mirglip the Feraian, in the Tales of the OenU,
1 WOKS the next morning with an aching head and
fe?erish frame. Ah, those midnight caronsals, how
glorious they would be if there were no next morning I
I took my aauterne and soda-water in mj dressing-room :
and, as indisposition always makes me meditative, I
thought over all I had done since my arrival at Paris. I
had become {thatj Heaven knows, I soon manage to do)
rather a talked-of and noted character. It is true that I
was everywhere abused — one found fault with my neck-
cloth— another with my mind — the lank Mr. Abert^a
declared that I put my hair in papers, and the stuffed Sir
Henry Millington said I was a thread-paper myself. One
blamed my riding — a second my dancing — a third won-
dered how any woman could like me, and a fourth said
that no woman ever could.
On one point, however, all — friends and foes — were
alike agreed : viz., that I was a consummate puppy, and
excessively well satisfied with myself. Perhaps, they w re
not much mistaken there. Why is it, by-the-by, that to
]|4 peliiam; oe.
be pleased with one's-self is the surest way of offending
everybody else f If any one, male or female, an evident
admirer of his or her own perfections, enter a room, how
perturbed, restless, and unhappy every individual of the
offender's sex instantly becomes : for them not only enjoy-
ment but tranquillity is over, and if they could annihilate
the unconscious victim of their spleen, I fully believe no
Christian toleration would come in the way of that last
extreme of animosity. For a coxcomb there is no mercy
— for a coquette no pardon. They are, as it were, the
dissenters of society — no crime is too bad to be imputed
to them ; they do not believe the religion of others —
they set up a deity of their own vanity — all the orthodox
vanities of others are offended. Then comes the bigotry
— the stake — the avio-da-f^ of scandal. What, alas I
is so implacable as the rage of vanity ? What so restless
as its persecution ? Take from a man his fortune, his
bouse, his reputation, but flatter his vanity in each, and
he will forgive you. Heap upon him benefits, fill him
with blessings: but irritate his self-love, and you have
made the very best man ungrateful. He will sting yon if
he can : you cannot blame him ; you yourself have instilled
the venom. This is one reason why yon must rarely
reckon upon gratitude in conferring an obligation. It is
a very high mind to which gratitude is not a painful
sensation. If you wish to please, you will find it wiser to
receive — solicit even — favors, than accord them : for the
vanity of the obliger is always flattered — that of the
obligee rarely
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 145
Well, this is an unforeseen digression ; let me return .'
I had mixed, of late, very little with the English. My
mother's introductions had procured me the entrie of the
best French houses ; and to them, therefore, my evenings
were usually devoted. Alas 1 that was a happy time, when
my carriage used to await me at the door of the Rocher
de Cancale, and then whirl me to a succession of visits,
varying in their degree and nature as the whim prompted :
now to the brilliant soirees of Madame de , or to the
appartement au trois^me of some less celebrated daughter
of dissipation and ^carte; — now to the literary conver-
saziones of the Duchesse deD s, or the Vicomte d' ,
and then to the feverish excitement of the gambling-house.
Passing from each with the appetite for amusement kept
alive by variety ; finding in none a disappointment, and
in every one a welcome ; full of the health which supports,
and the youth which colors all excess or excitement, J
drained, with an unsparing lip, whatever enjoyment that
enchanting metropolis could afford.
I have hitherto said but little of the Duchesse de
Perpignan ; I think it necessary now to give some account
of that personage. Ever since the evening I had met her
at the ambassador's, I paid her the most unceasing atten-
tions. I soon discovered that she had a curious sort of
liaison with one of the attacMs — a short ill -made gen-
tleman, with high shoulders and a pale face, who wore a
blue coat and a buff waistcoat, wrote bad verses, and
thought himself handsome. All Paris said she was ex-
cessively enamoured of this youth. As for me, I had not
I. —1.9
146 pelham; OB,
known her four days before I discovered that she could
not be excessively enamoured of anything bat an oyster
pcU6 and Lord Byron's Corsair. Her mind was the most
marvellous melange of sentiment and its opposite. In
her amours she was Lucretia herself; in her epicurism
Apicius would have yielded to her. She was pleased with
sighs, but she adored suppers. She would leave everything
for her lover, except her dinner. The aUachi soon quar-
relled with her, and I was installed into the platonic honors
of his office.
At first, I own that I was flattered by her choice, and
though she was terribly exacting of my petits soins, I
managed to keep up her affection, and, what is still more
wonderful, my own, for the better part of a month. What
then cooled me was the following occurrence : —
I was in her boudoir one evening, when heTfemme de
chambre came to tell us that the Due was in the passage.
Notwithstanding the innocence of our attachment, the
Duchesse was in a violent fright ; a small door was at the
left of the ottoman, on which we were sitting. " Oh, no,
no, not there I" cried the lady ; but I, who saw no other
refuge, entered it forthwith, and before she could ferret
me out, the Due was in the room.
In the meanwhile, I amused myself by examining the
wonders of the new world into which I had so abruptly
immerged : on a small table before me, was deposited a
remarkably constructed night-cap ; I examined it as a
curiosity ; on each side was placed une petite coielette ne
veau cru, sewed on with erreen-colored silk (I remember
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 14T
67611 the smallest minutiaB) : a beautifal golden wig (the
Dnchesse never liked me to play with her hair) was on a
block close by, and on another table was a set of teeth,
d?une blancheur Sbouissanie, In this manafactorj of a
beanty I remained for a quarter of an hour ; at the end
of that time, the abigail (the Dnchesse had the grace to
disappear) released me, and I flew down srairs like a
spirit from purgatory.
From that moment the Dnchesse honored me with her
most deadly abhorrence. Equally silly and wicked, her
schemes of revenge were as ludicrons in their execution as
remorseless in their design : at one time I narrowly escaped
poison in a cup of coffee — at another, she endeavored to
Btab me to the heart with a paper cutter.
Notwithstanding my preservation from these attacks,
my fair enemy had resolved on my destrnction, and another
means of attempting it still remained, which the reader
will yet have the pleasure of learning.
Mr. Thornton had called upon me twice, and twice I
had retnmed the visit, but neither of us had been at home
to benefft by these reciprocities of politeness. His ac-
ujuaintance with my mysterious hero of the gambling-house
and the Jardin dea PlanteSy and the keen interest I took,
in spite of myself, in that unaccountable person, whom I
was persuaded I had seen before in some very different
%ene, and under very different circumstances, made me
desirous to improve an acquaintance, which, from Viucent^s
detail. I should otherwise have been anxious to avoid. J
therefore resolved to make another attempt to find him
J48 pelham; OB;
at home ; and mj headache being somewhat better, I took
my way to his apartments in the Faubourg St. Germain.
I love that quartierl — if ever I go to Paris again I
shall reside there. It is a different world from the streets
usually known to, and tenanted by the English — iherCf
indeed, you are among the French, the fossilized remains
of the old regime — the very houses have an air of desolate,
yet venerable grandeur — you never pass by the white
and modem mansion of a nouveau riche; all, even to the
ruggedness of the pav6, breathes a haughty disdain of
innovation — you cross one of the numerous bridges, and
you enteri nto another time — you are inhaling the atmo-
sphere of a past century ; no flaunting hovMquej French in
its trumpery, English in its prices, stares you in the face ;
no stiff coats and unnatural gaits are seen anglicizing up
the melancholy streets. Vast hotels, with their gloomy
frontals, and magnificent contempt of comfort : shops, such
as shops might have been in the aristocratic days of Louis
Quatorze, ere British contamination made them insolent
and dear ; public edifices, still eloquent of the superb chari-
ties of le grand monarque — carriages with their huge
bodies and ample decorations ; horses, with their Norman,
dimensions and undocked honors ; men, on whose more
high though not less courteous demeanour, the Revolution
seems to have wrought no democratic plebeanism — all
ptrike on the mind with a vague and nameless impression
of antiquity ; a something solemn even in gaiety, and faded
In pomp, appears to linger over all you behold ; there are
the Great French people unadulterated by change, nnaui-
ADYENTUBES OF A GENTLEMAM. 14^
lied with the commerce of the va grant and yarions trihes
that throng their mighty mart of enjoyments.
The strangers who fill the quartiers on this side the
Seine pass not there ; between them and the Fanbonrg
there is a gulf; the very skies seem different — yonr own
feelings, thoughts — natare itself — alter, when you have
passed that Styx which divides the wanderers from the
habitants ; yonr spirits are not so much damped, as tinged,
refined, ennobled by a certain inexpressible awe — you
are girt with the stateliness of eld, and you tread the
gloomy streets xdth the dignity of a man, who is recalling
the splendors of an ancient court where he once did
homage.*
I arrived at Thornton's chambers in the Rue St. Dom-
inique. " Monaiev'*'^ est-il chez lui f " said I to the ancient
porteress, who was reading one of Crebillon's novels.
" Qui Monsieur ^ au qiicUridme,^^ was the answer. I
turned to the dark and unclean stair-case, and, after
incredible exertion and fatigue, arrived, at last, at the
elevated abode of Mr. Thornton
" EntreZf'^ cried a voice, in answer to my rap. I obeyed
the signal, and found myself in a room of tolerable dimen-
sions and multiplied utilities. A decayed silk curtain of a
dingy blue, drawn across a recess, separated the chambre
d coucher from the salon. It was at- present only half
drawn, and did not, therefore, conceal the mysteries of
the den within ; the bed was still unmade, and apparently
* It was in 1827 that this was first published: the glorj (by this
time) has probably left the Faubourg.
12*
150 pelham; or,
of no very inyiting cleanliness ; a red handkerchief, that
berr^d as a night-cap, hung pendent from the foot of the
bed : at a little distance from it, more towards the pillow,
were a shawl, a parasol, and an old slipper. On a table,
which stood between the two dall, filmy windows, were
placed a cracked bowl, still reeking with the lees of gin-
punch, two bottles half fall, a mouldy cheese, and a salad
dish : on the ground beneath the table lay two huge books,
and a woman's bonnet. ^
Thornton himself sat by a small consumptive fire, in an
easy chair ; another table, still spread with the appliances
of breakfast, viz., a coffee-pot, a milk-jug, two cups, a
broken loaf, and an empty dish, mingled with a pack of
cards, one dice, and an open book de mauvais gout, stood
Immediately before him.
Every thing around bore some testimony of low de-
bauchery; and the man himself, with his flushed and
sensual countenance, his unwashed hands, and the slovenly
rakishness of his whole appearance, made no unfitting
representation of the Oenius lad.
All that I have described, together with a flitting shadow
of feminine appearance, escaping through another door,
my quick eye discovered in the same instant that I made
my salutation.
Thornton rose, with an air half-careless and halt*
abashed, and expressed, in more appropriate terms than
his appearance warranted, his pleasurable surprise at
seeing me at last. There was, however, a singularity in
bis conversation which gave it an air both of shrewdnesi
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 151
ttfia Tulgaritj. This was, as may before have been noted,
a profase intermixtare of proverbs, some stale, some new,
some sensible enough, and all savoring of a vocabulary
carefally eschewed by every man of ordinary refinement
in conversation.
'* I have but a small tenement," said he, smiling ; " but,
thank Heaven, at Paris a man is not made by his lodgings.
Small house, small care. Few gargona have indeed a
more sumptuous apartment than myself."
" True," said I ; " and if I may judge by the bottles on
the opposite table, and the bonnet beneath it, you find
that no abode is too humble or too exalted for the solace
of the senses."
" *Fore Gad, you are in the right, Mr. Pelham," replied
Thornton, with a loud, coarse, chuckling laugh, which,
more than a year's conversation could have done, let me
into the secrets of his character. '' I care not a rush for
the decorations of the table, so that the cheer be good ;
nor for the gewgaws of the head-dress, so long as the face is
pretty — * the taste of the kitchen is better than the smell. '
Do you go much to Madame B 's in the Rue Qr6try
— eh, Mr. Pelham ? — ah, I '11 be bound you do."
" No," said I, with a loud laugh, but internal shiver ;
*'bat you know where to find le bon vin et les jolies filles.
As for me, I am still a stranger in Paris, and amuse
myself but very indifferently."
Thornton's face brightened. '' I tell yon what, my good
fellow — — I beg pardon — I mean Mr. Pelham — I cai
\M PELHAM; OR,
show you the best sport in the world, if you can only spare
me a little of your time — this very evening, perhaps ? "
" I fear," said I, '* I am engaged all the present week j
but I long for nothing more than to cultivate an acquaint*
ance, seemingly so exactly to my own taste,^^
Thornton's grey eyes twinkled. " Will you breakfast
with me on Saturday?" said he.
"1 shall be too happy," I replied.
There was now a short pause. I took advantage of it
" I think," said I, ** I have seen you once or twice with a
tall, handsome man, in a loose great-coat of very singular
color. Pray, if not impertinent, who is he ? I am sure
I have seen him before in England."
I looked full upon Thornton as I said this ; he changed
color, and answered my gaze with a quick glance from his
small, glittering eye, before he replied, "I scarcely know
who you mean, my acquaintance is so large and miscel-
laneous at Paris. It might have been Johnson, or Smith,
or Howard, or anybody, in short."
"It is a man nearly six feet high," said I, '*thin, and
remarkably well made, of a pale complexion, light eyes,
and very black hair, mustachios and whiskers. I saw him
with you once in the Bois de Boulogne, and once in a hell
in the Palais Royal. Surely, now you will recollect who
he is ? "
Thornton was evidently disconcerted. " Oh ! " said he,
after a short pause, and another of his peculiarly quick,
sly glances. — " Oh, that man ; I have known him a very
short time. What is his name ? — let me see I " and Mr
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 15S
Thornton affected to look down in a complete reverie of
dim remembrances.
I saw, however, that, from time to time, his eye glanced
op to me, with a restless, inquisitive expression, and as
instantly retired.
"Ah," said I, carelessly, "I think I know who he is 1 '^
"Who?" cried Thornton, eagerly, and utterly off his
guard.
"And yet," I pursued, without noticing the interruption,
"it scarcely can be — the color of the hair is so very
different."
Thornton again appeared to relapse into his recollec«
tions.
""War — Warbur — ah, I have it now I" cried he,
" Warburton — that's it — that's the name — is it the one
you supposed, Mr. Pelham f "
"No," said I, apparently perfectly satisfied. "I was
quite mistaken. Good morning, I did not think it was so
late. On Saturday, then, Mr. Thornton — auplaisirl"
"A cunning dog 1 " said I to myself, as I left the apart-
ments. ** Koweyev, on peiU itre Irop fin. I shall have
him yet."
The surest way to make a dupe, is to let your vietiiii
mppose you are his.
164 pelham; ob,
CHAPTER XXIV.
•Voil& de V^rudition.* — Le9 Femtnes Savante$.
I POUND, on my return, covered with blood, and foaming
^th passion, my inestimable valet — Bedos !
"What's the matter?" said I.
" Matter ! " repeated Bedos, in a tone almost inarticu-
late with rage ; and then, rejoicing at the opportunity of
unbosoming his wrath, he poured out a vast volley of
ivrognes and carogneSy against our dame du ch&teau, of
monkey reminiscence. With great difficulty, I gathered
at last, from his vituperations, that the enraged landlady,
determined to wreak her vengeance on some one, had sent
for him into her appartement, accosted him with a smile,
bade him sit down, regaled him with cold vol-au-vent, and
a glass of CuraQoa, and, while he was felicitating himself
on his good fortune, slipped out of the room : presently,
three tall fellows entered with sticks.
" We'll teach you," said the biggest of them — " we'll
teach you to lock up ladies for the indulgence of your
vulgar amusement;" and, without one other word, they
fell upon Bedos with incredible zeal and vigor. The val-
iant valet defended himself, tooth and nail, for some time,
for which he only got the more soundly belabored. In
* There's erudition for yoiL
ADVENTTJEES OP A GENTLEMAN. 156
the meanwhile the landlady entered, and, with the same
gentle smile as before, begged him to make no ceremony,
to proceed with his present amusement, and when he was
tired with the exercise, hoped he woald refresh himself
with another glass of Oaracoa.
" It was this," said Bedos, with a whimper, " which hurt
me the most, to think she should serve me so cruelly, aftei
I had eaten so plentifully of the vot-au-vent ; envy and
injustice I can bear, but treachery stabs me to the heart."
When these threshers of men were tired, the lady sat-
isfied, and Bedos half dead, they suffered the unhappy
valet to withdraw ; the mistress of the hotel giving him
a note, which she desired, with great civility, that he
would transmit to me on my return. This, I found, in-
closed my bill, and informed me that, my month being out
on the morrow, she had promised my rooms to a particular
friend, and begged I would, therefore, have the horde to
choose another apartment.
"Carry my luggage forthwith," said I, "to the Hotel
de Mirabeau : " and that very evening I changed my abode.
I was engaged that day to a literary dinner at the Mar-
quis d'Al ; and as I knew I should meet Vincent, I
felt some pleasure in repairing to my entertainer's hotel
They were just going to dinner as I entered. A good
many English were of the party. The good-natured, in
all senses of the word. Lady , who always affected to
pet me, cried aloud, " Pelhara, mon joli petit mignoUf I
have not seen you for an age — do give me your arm."
Madame d'Anville was just before me, and, as I looked
156 PELnAM; ob',
at her, I saw that her ejes were full of tears ; my heart
smote me for my late inattention, and going up to her, I
only nodded to Lady , and said, in reply to her invi-
tation, " Non, perfide, it is rn.y turn to be cruel now.
Remember your flirtation with Mr. Howard de Howard *'
** Pooh I " said Lady , taking Lord Vincent's arm,
" your jealousy does indeed rest upon ^ a trifle light aa
air,'''
" Do you forgive me ? " whispered I to Madame d'
Anville, as I handed her to the salle d manger,
'* Does not love forgive everything ? " was her answer.
"At least," thought I, "it never talks in those pretty
phrases I " «
The conversation soon turned upon books. As for me,
I rarely at that time took a share in those discussions ;
indeed, I have long laid it down as a rule, that when your
fame, or your, notoriety, is once established, you never
gain by talking to more than one person at a time. If
you don't shine, you are a fool — if you do, you are a
bore. You must become either ridiculous or unpopular
— either hurt your own self-love by stupidity, or that of
others by wit. I therefore sat in silence, looking exceed-
ingly edified, and now and then muttering "good !" "true I'
Thank heaven, however, the suspension of one faculty
only increases the vivacity of the others ; my eyes and
ears always watch like sentinels over the repose of my
lips. Careless and indifferent as I seem to all things,
nothing ever escapes me : I have two peculiarities which
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 151
serve me, it may be, instead of talent ; / observe , and J
remember,
"You have seen Jouy's 'Hermite de la Chauss^e d'
Antin?'" said our host to Lord Vincent.
"I have, and think meanly of it. There is a perpetual
aim at something pointed, which as perpetually merges
into something dull. He is like a bad swimmer, strikes
oat with great force, makes a confounded splash, and never
gets a yard the further for it. It is a great effort not to
sink. Indeed, Monsieur d'A , your literature is at a
very reduced ebb ; — bombastic in the drama — shallow
in philosophy — mawkish in poetry, your writers in the
present day seem to think, with Boileau —
* Souvent de tons nos maux la raison est le pire.* " ♦
"Surely," cried Madame d'Anville, "you will allow De
la Martinets poetry to be beautiful ? "
" I allow it," said he, "to be among the best you have ;
and I know very few lines in your language equal to the
two first stanzas in his ' Meditation on Napoleon,' or to
those exquisite verses called *Le lac ;'hnt you will allow
also, that he wants originality and nerve. His thoughts
are pathetic, but not deep ; he whines, but sheds no tears.
lie has, in his imitation of Lord Byron, reversed the great
miracle ; instead of turning water into wine, he has turned
wine into water. Besides, he is so unpardonably obscure.
He thinks, with Bacchus — (you remember, D'A , the
line in Euripides, which I will not quote), that * there is
* « ■ »—
* Often of all our ills the worst is reason.
1.— U
168 r ELD am; or,
Bomething angnst in the shades ; * bat he has applied this
thought wrongly — in his obscurity there is nothing sablime
— it is the back-gronud of a Dutch picture. It is only a
red herring, or an old hat, which he has invested with
Auch pomposity of shadow and darkness."
"But his verses are so smooth," said Lady .
"Ah I " answered Vincent.
* * Qaand la rime enfin se trouve an bout des Tera,
Qu* importe que le reste y soit mis de travew?' " ♦
*' Helasf" said the Viscount d'A — , an author of no
small celebrity himself; "I agree with you — we shall
never again see a Voltaire or a Rousseau."
" There is but little justice in those complaints, often
as they are made," replied Vincent. " You may not, it
is true, see a Voltaire or a Rousseau, but you will see
their equals. Genius can never be exhausted by one
individual. In our country, the poets after Chaucer in
the fifteenth century complained of the decay of their art
— they did not anticipate.Shakspeare. In Hayley's time,
who ever dreamt of the ascfension of Byron ? Yet Shak-
Bpeare and Byron came like the bridegroom 'in the dead
of night ; ' and you have the same probability of producing
— not, indeed, another Rousseau, but a writer to do equal
honor to your literature."
** I think," said Lady , " that Rousseau's ' Julie ' is
07er-rated. I had heard so much of 'La Nouvelle H6-
loise ' when I was a girl, and been so often told that it
* No matter what the stuff, if good the rhyme —
The nibble stands cemented with the lime. — Pajlaphrai a.
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN 159
was destruction to read it, that I bought the book the
very day after I was married. I own to you that I could
!iot get through it."
" I am not surprised at it," answered Vincent ; " but
Rousseau is not the less a genius for all that There is
no plot in his novel to bear out the style, and he himself
is right when he says, 'this book will suit few readers.'
One letter would delight every one — four volumes of them
are a surfeit — it is the toujours perdrix. But the chief
beauty of that wonderful conception of an impassioned
and meditative mind is to be found in the inimitable man-
ner in which the thoughts are embodied, and in the ten-
demess, the truth, the profundity of the thoughts them-
selves. When Lord Edouard says, * c^est le chemin des
passions qui m^a conduit d la philosophie,^* he inculcates,
in one simple phrase, a profound and unanswerable truth.
It is in these remarks that nature is chiefly found in the
writings of Rousseau. Too much engrossed in himself
to be deeply skilled in the characters of others, that very
self-study had yet given him a knowledge of the more
hidden recesses of the heart. He could perceive at once
the motive and the cause of actions, but he wanted the
patience to trace the elaborate and winding progress of
their effects. He saw the passions in their home, but he
could not follow them abroad. He knew mankind in the
general, but not men in the detail. Thus, when he makes
an aphorism, or reflection, it comes home at once to }ou
* It is the path of the passions which has conducted me to phi<
loMphj. '
160 PELIIAM; OR,
as true; but when he would analyze that reflection —
when he argues, reasons, and attempts to prove, you reject
him as unnatural, or you refute him as false. It is then
that he partakes of that manie commune which he imputes
to other philosophers, * de nier ce qui est, et d'expliquer
ce qui n^est pas.^^**
There was a short pause. **I think," said Madame
d'Anville, " that it is in those reflections which you admire
so much in Rousseau, that our authors in general excel."
" You are right," said Vincent, " and for this reason —
with you, men of letters are nearly always men of the
world. Hence their quick perceptions are devoted to
human beings as well as to books. They make observa-
tions acutely, and embody them with grace ; but it is
worth remarking, that the same cause which produced the
aphorism, frequently prevents its being profound. These
literary gens du mode have the tact to observe, but not
the patience, perhaps not the time, to investigate. They
make the maxim, but they never explain to you the train
of reasoning which led to it. Hence they are more bril-
liant than true. An English writer will seldom dare to
make a maxim, involving, perhaps, in two lines, one of
the most important of moral problems, without bringing
pages to support his dictum. A French essayist leaves
it wholly to itself. He tells you neither how he came by
his reasons, nor their conclusion ; * le plus fou soumni
est le plus satis/ait.^ f Consequently, if less tedious thi^o
* To deny that which is, and explain that which is not.
f He who has the least sense is the most satisfied.
• ADVENTURES OP A GENTLEMAN. 161
the English, yonr reasoners are more dangerous, and ought
rather to be considered as models of terseness than of re-
flection. A man might learn to think sooner from your
writers, but he will learn to think justly sooner from ours.
Many observations of La Bruyfere and Rochefoucault —
the latter especially — have obtained credit for truth solely
from their point. They possess exactly the same merit as
the very sensible — permit me to add — very French line
in Comeille: —
* Ma plus douce esp^rance cat de perdre Tespoir.* " *
The marquis took advantage of the silence which fol-
lowed Vincent's criticism, to rise from table. We all
(except Vincent, who took leave) adjourned to the salon,
" Qui est cet homme Id?^^ said one, " comme il est ^pris
de lui-mimeP^ " How silly he is," cried another — " How
ugli/f" said a third. "What a taste in literature — such
a talker — such shallowness, and such assurance — not
worth the answering — could not slip in a word — disa-
greeable, revolting, awkward, slovenly," were the most
complimentary opinions bestowed upon the unfortunate
Vincent. The old railed at his mauvais gout, and the
young at his mauvais coeur, for the former always attribute
whatever does not correspond with their sentiments, to a
perversion of taste ; and the latter, whatever does not
come up to their enthusiasm, to a depravity of heart.
As for me, I went home, enriched with two new obsor •
* My sweetest hoping is to forfeit hope.
U* L
\
162 pelham; ob,
yations ; first, that one may not speak of anything relative
to a foreign country, as one would if one were a native.
National censures become particular affronts. Secondly,
that those who know mankind in theory, seldom know it
iu practice ; the very wisdom that conceives a rule, is
accompanied with the abstraction, or the vanity, which
destroys it I mean, that the philosopher of the cabinet
is often too diffident to put into action his observations,
or too eager for display to conceal their design. Lord
Vincent values himself upon his science du monde. He
has read much upon men, he has reflected more ; he lays
down aphorisms to govern or to please them. He goes
into society ; he is cheated by the one half, and the other
half he offends. The sage in the cabinet is but a fool in
the salon ; and the most consummate men of the world
are those who have considered the least on it.
ADVENTUKSS or A OENTLXMAM. 16)
CHAPTER XXV.
Faktaff, — What money is in my purse ?
Page, — Seyen groats and two-pence. — Second Part of Henry 1 F.
En iterum Crispinus I
The next day a note was brought me which had been
sent to my former lodgings in the Hotel de Paris : it was
from Thornton.
"My DEAB Sib," (it began)
" I am very sorry that particular business will prevent
me the pleasure of seeing you at my rooms on Saturday.
I hope to be more fortunate some other day. I should
be glad to introduce you, the first opportunity, to my
friends in the Bue Gr€try, for I like obliging toy country-
men. I am sure, if you were to go there, you would cut
and come again — one shoulder of mutton drives down
another.
" I beg you to accept my repeated excuses, and remain,
" Dear Sir,
" Your very obedient servant,
" Thomas Thornton.
** Bue St. Dominique,
Friday Morning."
This letter produced in me many and manifold cogita-
ticns. What could possibly have induced Mr. Tom
164 pelham; OB,
Thornton, rogue as he was, to postpone thus of his own
accord, the plucking of a pigeon, which he had such good
reason to believe he had entrapped ? There was evi-
dently no longer the same avidity to cultivate my acquaint-
ance as before ; in patting off our appointment with 30
little ceremony, he did not even fix a day for another
meeting. What had altered his original designs towards
me ? for if Vincent's account were true, it was natural to
suppose that he wished to profit by any acquaintance he
might form with me, and therefore such an acquaintance
his own interests would induce him to continue and confirm.
Either, then, he no longer had the same necessity for
a dupe, or he no longer imagined I should become one.
Yet neither of these suppositious was probable. It was
not likely that he should grow suddenly honest, or suddenly
rich : nor had I, on the other hand, given him any reason
to suppose I was a jot more wary than any other individual
he might have imposed upon. On the contrary, I had
appeared to seek his acquaintance with an eagerness
which said but little for my knowledge of the world. The
more I reflected, the more I should have been puzzled,
had I not connected his present backwardness with his
acquaintance with the stranger, whom he termed Warbur-
ton. It is true, that I had no reason to suppose so : it
was a conjecture wholly unsupported, and, indeed, against
my better sense ; yet, from some unabalyzed associations,
I could not divest myself of the supposition.
"I will soon see," thought I; and, wrapping myself in
my cloak, for the day was bitterly cold, I bent my way to
ADVENTURER OF A GENTLEMAN. 16«r
Thornton's lodgings. I could not explain to myself the
deep interest I took in whatever was connected with (the
so-called) Warburton, or whatever promised to discover
more clearly any particulars respecting him. His behavior
in the gambling-house ; his conversation with the woman
in the Jardin des Plantes; and the singular circumstance,
that a man of so very aristocratic an appearance should
be connected with Thornton, and only seen in such low
scenes, and with such low society, would not have been
sufficient so strongly to occupy my mind, had it not been
for certain dim recollections, and undefinable associations,
that his appearance when present, and my thoughts of
him when absent, perpetually recalled.
As, engrossed with meditations of this nature, I was
passing over the Point Neuff I perceived the man whom
Warburton had so earnestly watched in the gambling-
house, and whom my conjectures identified with the " Tyr-
rell," who had formed the subject of conversation in the
Jardin des Plantes^ pass slowly before me. There was
an appearance of great exhaustion in his swarthy and
strongly- marked countenance. He walked carelessly on,
neither looking to the right nor the left, with that air of
thought and abstraction comnmn to all men in the habit
of indulging any engrossing and exciting passion.
We were just on the other side of the Seiner when I
perceived the woman of the Jardin des Plantes approach.
Tyrrell (for that, I afterwards discovered, was really his
oame) started as she came near, and asked her in a tone
of some asperity, where she had been ? As I was but a
166 pelham; or,
fow paces behind, I had a clear, full view of the woman's
countenance. She was about twenty-eight or thirty years
of age. Her features were decidedly handsome, though
somewhat too sharp and aquiline. Her eyes were light
and rather sunken ; and her complexion bespoke somewhat
of the paleness and languor of ill-health. On the whole,
the expression of her face, though decided, was not un-
pleasing, and when she returned Tyrrell's rather rude
salutation, it was with a smile, which made her, for the
moment, absolutely beautiful.
" Where have I been to ? " she said, in answer to hig
interrogatory ; " Why, I went to look at the New Church,
which they told me was so superbe,^^
" Me thinks," replied the man, '* that ours are not pre
eisely the circumstances in which such spectacles are
amusing."
"Nay, Tyrrell," said the woman, as, taking his arm,
they walked on together a few paces before me, " nay,
we are quite rich now to what we have been ; and, if you
do play again, our two hundred pounds may swell into a
fortune. Your losses have brought you skill, and you
may now turn them into actual advantages."
Tyrrell did not reply exactly to these remarks, but
appeared as if debating with himself. "Two hundred
pounds — twenty already gone ! — in a few months, all will
have melted away. What is it then now but a respite from
starvation ? — but with luck it may become a competence."
"And why not have luck? many a fortune has been
made with a worse beginning," said, the woman.
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. IC)
"True, Margaret," pursued the gambler, "and evsL
without luck, our fate can only commence a month or
two sooner — better a short doom than a lingering torture."
" What think you of trying some new game where you
have more experience, or where the chances are greater
than in that of rouge et noirf^^ asked the woman.
** Could you not make something out of that tall, handsome
mao, who, Thornton says, is so rich ? "
"Ah, if one could I " sighed Tyrrell, wistfully. " Thorn-
ton tells me, that he has won thousands from him, and
that they are mere drops in his income. Thornton is a
good, easy, careless fellow, and might let me into a share of
the booty ; but then, in what games can I engage him ? "
Here I passed this well-suited pair, and lost the re-
mainder of their conversation. " Well, " thought I, " if this
precious personage does starve at last, he will most richly
deserve it, partly for his designs on the stranger, principally
for his opinion of Thornton. If he were a knave only, one
might pity him ; but a knave and fool both, are a combi-
nation of evil, for which there is no intermediate purgatory
of opinion — nothing short of utter damnation."
I soon arrived at Mr. Thornton's abode. The same old
woman, poring over the same novel of Crebillon, made
me the same reply as before ; and accordingly again I
ascended the obscure and rugged stairs, which seemed
to indicate, that the road to vice is not so easy as one
generally supposes. I knocked at the- door, and, receiving
no answering acknowledgment, opened it at once. The
first thing I saw was the dark, rough coat of Warburton ;
168 pelham; or,
that person's back was turned to me, and he was talking
with some energy to Thornton (who lounged idly in a
chair, with one ungartered leg thrown over the elbow).
"Ah, Mr. Pelham," exclaimed the latter, starting from
his not very graceful position, " it gives me great pleasure
to see you — Mr. Warburton, Mr. Pelham — Mr. Pelham,
Mr. Warburton."
My new-made and mysterious acquaintance drew himself
up to his full height, and bowed very slightly to my own
acknowledgment of the introduction. A low person
would have thought him rude. I only supposed him
ignorant of the world. No man of the world is uncivil.
He turned round, after this stiff condescension, and sank
down on the sofa, with his back towards me.
" I was mistaken," thought I, " when I believed him to
be above such associates as Thornton — they are well
matched."
"My dear sir," said Thornton, "I am very sorry I
could not see you to breakfast — a particular engagement
prevented me — verbum sap, Mr. Pelham, you take me,
I suppose — black eyes, white skin, and such an ankle ! "
and the fellow rubbed his great hands and chuckled.
" Well," said I, " I cannot blame you, whatever may
be my loss — a dark eye and a straight ankle are powerful
excuses. What says Mr. Warburton to them ? " and 1
turned to the object of my interrogatory.
" Really," he answered drily, (but in a voice that struck
me as feigned and artificial,) and without moving from
his uncoarteous position, " Mr. Thornton only can judge
ADYENTUBE8 OF A GENTLEMAN. 169
of the niceties of his peculiar tastes, or the justice of hift
general excuses."
Mr. Warburton said this in a sarcastic bitter tone.
Thornton bit his lips, more, I should think, at the manner
than the words, and his small grey eyes sparkled with a
malignant and stem expression, which suited the character
of his face far better than the careless levity which his
glances usually denoted.
" They are no such great friends after all," thought I ;
"and let me change my attack. Pray,'' I asked, "among
all your numerous acquaintances at Paris, did you evei
meet with a Mr. Tyrrell f "
Warburton started from his chair, and as instantly re-
seated himself. Thornton eyed me with one of those
peculiar looks which so strongly reminded me of a dog,
in deliberation whether to bite or run away.
'' I do know a Mr. Tyrrell 1 " he said, after a short
pause.
" What sort of a person is he ? " I asked, with an indif-
ferent air — "a great gamester, is he not?"
** He does slap it-down on the colors now and then,"
replied Thornton. " I hope you don't know him, Mr
Pelham I "
" Why ? " said I, evading the question. " His charactei
is not affected by a propensity so common, unless, indeed^
you suppose him to be more a gambler than a gamester,
viz., more acute than unlucky."
''Heaven forbid that I should say any such thing, **
1.-15
no pblham; or, ^
repKed Thornton ; " you won't catch an old lawyer ia
such imprudence."
" The greater the truth, the greater the libel," said
Warburton, with a sneer.
*'No," resumed Thornton, "I know nothing against
Mr. Tyrrell — nothing I He may be a very good man,
and I believe he is ; but as a friend, Mr. Pelham, (and
Mr. Thornton grew quite affectionate), I advise you to
have as little as possible to do unth that sort ofj^eople.^^
"Truly," said I, "you have now excited my curiosity.
Nothing, you know, is half so inviting as mystery."
Thornton looked as if he had expected a very different
reply ; and Warburton said, in an abrupt tone —
" Whoever enters an unknown road in a fog may easily
lose himself."
" True," said I ; " but that very chance is more agreeable
than a road where one knows every tree I Danger and
novelty are more to my taste than safety and sameness.
Besides, as I rarely gamble myself, I can lose little by an
acquaintance with those who do."
Another pause ensued — and, finding I had got all
from Mr. Thornton and his uncourteous guest that I was
likely to do, I took my hat and my departure.
"I do not know," thought I, " whether I have profited
much by this visit. Let me consider. In the first place,
I have not ascertained why I was put off by Mr. Thornton
— for as to his excuse, it could only have availed one day,
and had he been anxious for my acquaintance, he would
have named another. I have, however, discovered, first.
ADVSNTUBSB OF A GXNTLEMAN 1)1
that he does not wish me to form any connection with
Tyrrell; secondly, from Warburton's sarcasm, and his
glance of reply, that there is bat little friendship between
those two, whatever be the intimacy ; and, thirdly, that
Warburton, from his dorsal positions, so studiously pre-
served, either wished to be uncivil or unnoticed." The
latter, after all, was the most probable supposition ; and,
upon the whole, I felt more than ever convinced that be
was the person I suspected him to be.
CHAPTER XXVI.
Tell how the fates my giddy course did guide,
The inoonstant turns of every changing hour.
Pierce Oavealon^ by M. Daattos
Je me retire done. — Adieu, Paris, adieu! — Boilbait.
When I returned home, I found on my table the
following letter from my mother: —
*'My dear Henry,
" I am rejoiced to hear you are so well entertained at
Paris — that you have been so often to the D s and
C^ s ; that Coulon says you are his best pupil — that
yout favorite horse is so much admired — and that you
have only exceeded your allowance by £1,000. With some
difficulty I have persuaded your uncle to transmit you
an order for 1,500/., which will, I trust, make up all yonr
deficiencies.
1T2 pslham; or,
" Yoa mast not, my dear child, be bo eztrayagant fof
the fatare, and for a yerj good reason, Tiz., I do not see
how yoa can. Yonr uncle, I fear, will not again be so
generous, and your father cannot assist you. Ton will
therefore see more clearly than ever the necessity of
marrying an heiress : there are only two in England (the
daughters of gentlemen) worthy of you — the most de-
serving of these has 10,0002. a year, the other has 100,0002.
The former is old, ugly, and very ill-tempered ; the latter
tolerably pretty, and agreeable, and just of age ; but you
jyill perceive the impropriety of even thinking of her till
we have tried the other. I am going to ask both to my
Sunday soirieSf where I never admit any single men, so
that there, at least, you will have no rivals,
"And now, my dear son, before I enter into a subject
of great importance to you, I wish to recall to your mind
that pleasure is never an end, but a means — viz., that in
your horses and amusements at Paris — your visits anu
your liaisons — you have always, I trust, remembered that
these were only so far desirable as the methods of shining
in society. I have now a new scene on which you are to
enter, with very different objects in view, and where any
pleasures you may find have nothing the least in commoc
with those you at present enjoy.
" I know that this preface will not frighten you, as it
might many silly young men. Your education has been
too carefully attended to, for you to imagine that any step
can be rough or unpleasant which raises you in the world.
« To come at once to the point. One of the seats in
ABYENTUBES OF A I^ENTLEMAN. IXi
a
jour uncle's borough of Buyemall is every day expected
to be vacated ; the present member, Mr. Toolington, eau-
Dot possibly live a week, and your uncle is very desirous
that you should fill the vacancy which Mr. Toolington'a
death will create. Though I called it Lord Glenmorris's
borough, yet> it is not entirely at his disposal, which I
think very strange, since my father, who was not half so
rich as your uncle, could send two members to Parliament
without the least trouble in the world — but I don't un-
derstand these matters. Possibly your uncle (poor man)
does not manage them well. However, he says no time is to
be lost Ton are to return immediately to England, and
3ome down to his house in shire. It is supposed you will
have some contest, but be certain eventually to come in.
'' Ton will also, in this visit to Lord Glenmorris, have
an excellent opportunity of securing his affection ; you
know it is some time since he saw you, and the greater
part of his property is unentailed. If you come into the
House, you must devote yourself wholly to it, and I have
no fear of your succeeding ; for I remember, when you
were quite a child, how well you spoke ' My name is
Nerval,' and ' Romans, countrymen, and lovers,' &c. I
heard Mr. Canning speak the other day, and I think his
voice is quite like yours. In short, I make no doubt of
seeing you in the ministry in a very few years.
" You see, my dear son, that it is absolutely necessary you
should set out immediately. You will call on Lady ,
and you will endeavor to make firm friends of the most
desirable among your present acquaintance ; so that you
40*
174 pelham; or,
may be on the same footing yon are now, shonld yon return
to Paris. This a little civility will easily do ; nobody (aa
I before observed), except in England, ever loses by po-
liteness; — by-the-by, that last word is one you must
never use — it is too Oloucester-place like.
" You will also be careful, in returning to England, to
make very little use of French phrases ; no vulgarity is
more unpleasing. I could not help being exceedingly
amused by a book written the other day, which professes
to give an accurate description of good society. Not
knowing what to make us say in English, the author has
made us talk nothing but French. I have often wondered
irhat common people think of us, since in their novels
they always affect to portray us so different from them-
selves. I am very much afraid we are in all things exactly
like them, except in being more simple and unaffected.
The higher the rank, indeed, the less pretence, because
there is less to pretend to. This is the chief reason why
our manners are better than low persons : ours are more
natural, because they imitate no one else; theirs are affected,
because they think to imitate ours ; and whatever is evi-
dently borrowed becomes vulgar. Original affectation is
sometimes good ton, — imitated affectation, always bad.
" Well, my dear Henry, I must now conclude this letter,
already too long to be interesting. I hope to see you
about ten days after you receive this ; and if you can bring
me a Gachemire shawl, it would give me great pleasure to
see your taste in its choice. God bless you, my dear sen
"Your very affectionate,
"Frances Pelham."
ADVENTURES OP A GENTLEMAN. 1*15
" P. S. I hope you go to church sometimes : I am sorry
.0 see the young men of the present day so irreligious ; it
is very bad taste ! Perhaps you could get my old friend,
Madame do , to choose the Cachemire ; — take care
of your health."
This letter, which I read carefully twice over, threw me
into a most serious meditation. My first feeling was regret
at leaving Paris ; my second, was a certain exultation at
the new prospects so unexpectedly opened to me. The
great aim of a philosopher is, to reconcile every disadvan-
tage by some counterbalance of good ; where he cannot
create this, he should imagine it. I began, therefore, to
consider less what I should lose than what I should gain,
by quitting Paris. In the first place, I was tolerably tired
of its amusements : no business is half so fatiguing as
pleasure. I longed for a change : behold, a change was
at hand I^ Then, to say truth, I was heartily glad of a
pretence for escaping from a numerous cohort of follea
amourSj with Madame d'AnvUle at the head ; and the
very circumstance which men who play the German flute
and fall in love would have considered the most vexatious,
I regarded as the most consolatory.
My mind being thus relieved from its primary regret at
my departure, I now suffered it to look forward to the
advantages of my return to England. My love of excite-
ment and variety made an election, in which I was to have
both the importance of the contest and the certainty of
tiie success, a very agreeable object of anticipation.
176 pelham; or,
I was also bj this time wearied with my attendance
opon women, and eager to exchange it for the ordinary
objects of ambition to men : and my vanity whispered that
my success in the one was no unfavorable omen of roj
prosperity in the other. On my return to England, with a
new scene and a new motive for conduct, I resolved that
I would commence a different character from that I had
hitherto assumed. How far I kept this resolution the
various events hereafter to be shown will testify. For
myself, I felt that I was now about to enter a more crowded
scene upon a more elevated ascent ; and my previous ez-
perience of human nature was sufficient to convince me
that my safety required a more continual circumspection^
and my success a more dignified bearing.
CHAPTER XXVII.
Je noterai cela, madamt , dans mon liyre. — Moliebk.
I AM not one of those persons who are many days in
deciding what may be effected in one. '' On the third day
from this," said I to Bedos, ''at half-past nine in the
morning, I shall leave Paris for England."
" Oh, my poor wife I " said the valet, " she will break
her heart if I leave her."
** Then stay," said I. Bedos shrugged his shoulders.
''I prefer being with Monsieur to all things."
" What, even to your wife ? " The courteous rascal
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. ill
placed his hand to his heart and bowed. " Yon shall not
suffer by your fidelity — you shall take your wife with you."
The conjugal valet's countenance fell. *' No/' he said,
— " he could not take advantage of Monsieur's generosity.''
'^I insist upon it — not another word."
** 1 beg a thousand pardons of Monsieur ; but — but my
wife is very ill, and unable to travel."
''Then, in that case, so excellent a husband cannot
think of leaving a sick and destitute wife."
"Poverty has no law; if I consulted my heart, and
stayed, I should starve, et ilfaut tnwe."*
" Je ri^en vois pas la n^cessiU,^* f replied I, as I got
into my carriage. That repartee, by the way, I cannot
claim as my own ; it is the very unanswerable answer of a
judge to an expostulating thief.
I made the round of reciprocal regrets, according to
the orthodox formula. The Duchesse de Perpignan was
the last ; — (Madame d'Anville I reserved for another day)
— that virtuous and wise personage was in the boudoir
of reception. I glanced at the fatal door as I entered. I
have a great aversion, after any thing has once happened
and fairly subsided, to make any allusion to its former
existence. I never, therefore, talked to the Duchess about
our ancient ^garemena. I spoke, this morning, of the
marriage of one person, the death of another, and lastly,
the departure of my individual self.
" When do y«u go ? " she said, eagerly.
* One must live.
f I don't see the necessity of that.
178 pelham; ob,
In two days : my departure will be softened, if I can
execute any commissions in England for Madame."
'' None," said she ; and then in a low tone (that none
of the idlers, who were always fonnd at her morning levdea,
should hear), she added, "you will receive a note from
me this evening."
I bowed, changed the conversation, and withdrew. I
dined in my own rooms, and spent the evening in looking
over the various billets-doitx, received during my s^Jour
at Paris.
" Where shall I put all these locks of hair f " asked
Bedos, opening a drawer-full.
"Into my scrap-book."
"And all these letters?"
"Into the fire."
I was just getting into bed when the Duchesse de
Perpignan's note arrived — it was as follows : —
"My dear Friend,
" For that word, so doubtful in our language, I may at
least call you in your own. I am unwilling that you should
leave this country with those sentiments you now entertain
of me, unaltered, yet I cannot imagine any form of words
of sufficient magic to change them. Oh I if you knew how
much I am to be pitied ; if you could look for one moment
into this lonely and blighted heart ; if you could trace,
step by step, the progress I have made in folly and sin,
• you would see how much of what you now condemn and
despise, I have owed to circumstances, rather than to the
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. HV
vice of my disposition. I was born a beauty, educated a
beauty, owed fame, rank, power to beauty ; and it is to
the advantages I have derived from person that I owe the
ruin of my mind. You have seen how much I now derive
from art ; I loathe myself as I write that sentence ; but no
matter : from that moment you loathed me too. You did
not take into consideration that I had been living on ex-
citement all my youth, and that in my maturer years I
could not relinquish it. I had reigned by my attractions,
and I thought every art preferable to resigning my empire :
but, in feeding my vanity, I had not been able to stifle the
dictates of my heart Love is so natural to a woman, that
she is scarcely a woman who resists it : but in me it has
been a sentiment, not a passion.
" Sentiment, then, and vanity, have been my seducers.
I said, that I owed my errors to circumstances, not to
nature. You will say, that in confessing love and vanity
to be my seducers, I contradict this assertion — you are
mistaken. I mean, that though vanity and sentiment were
in me, yet the scenes in which I have been placed, and
the events which I have witnessed, gave to those latent
currents of action a wrong and a dangerous direction. I
was formed to love; for one whom I did love I could
have made every sacrifice. I married a man I hated, and
I only learnt the depths of my heart when it was too late.
" Enough of this ; you will leave this country ; we shall
never meet again — never I You may return to Paris,
but I shall then be no more ; nHmporte — I shall be un»
changed to the last. Je mourrai en reine.
180 pslham; ob,
" As a latest pledge of what I have felt for yon, I send
70a the enclosed chain and ring; as a latest favor, I
request 70a to wear them for six months, and, above all,
for two hours in the Taileries to-morrow. You will laugh
at this request : it seems idle and romantic — perhaps it
is so. Love has man7 exaggerations in sentiment, which
reason would despise. What wonder, then, that mine,
above that of all others, should conceive them ? You will-
not, I know, deny this request Farewell I — in this world
we shall never meet again. Farewell I
"E. P."
''A most sensible effusion," said I to m7self, when I
had read this billet ; '' and 7et, after all, it shows more
feeling and more character than I could have supposed
she possessed." I took up the chain : it was of Maltese
workmanship ; not ver7 handsome^ nor, indeed, in an7
way remarkable, except for a plain hair ring which was
attached to it, and which I found m7self unable to take
off, without breaking. *' It is a ver7 singular request, '•
thought I, " but then it comes from a ver7 singular person :
and as it rather partakes of adventure and intrigue, I
shall at all events appear in the Tuileries to-morrow,
chained and ringed.^*
-▲DYSMTTJBX8 OV A QSNTLKHAN. 181
CHAPTER XXVIII.
Thy incivility shall not make me fail to do what becomes me ;
And sinoe ihou hast more yalor than courtesy, I for thee will haaard
that life which thoa wouldst take from me. — Cattandra^ **$leganUff
done into Engliah by Sir Chablbs Cottebell."
About the usual hour for the promenade in the Tuileries,
I coDYeyed myself thither. I set the chain and ring in
fall display, rendered still more conspicuous by the dark-
colored dress which I always wore. I had not been in the
gardens ten minutes, before I perceiyed a young French-
man, scarcely twenty years of age, look with a very peculiar
air at my new decorations. He passed and repassed me,
much oftener than the alternations of the walk warranted ;
and at last, taking off his hat, said in a low tone, that he
wished much for the honor of exchanging a few words
with me in private. I saw, at the first glance, that he was
a gentleman, and accordingly withdrew with him among
the trees, in the more retired part of the garden.
" Permit me," said he, '' to inquire how that ring and
chain came into your possession ? "
" Monsieur," I replied, '' you will understand me, when
I say, that the honor of another person is implicated in
uy concealment of that secret"
" Sir," said the Frenchman, coloring violently, '* I have
leen them before — in a word, they belong to me 1 "
I. — 16
182 pklham; or,
I smiled — my young hero fired at this. ** Ouz, Mon-
9ieur,^' said he, speaking very loud, and very quick, " they
belong to me, and I insist upon your immediately restoring
them, or vindicating your claim to them by arms."
" You leave me but one answer. Monsieur," said I ; " I
will find a friend to wait upon you immediately. Allow
me to inquire your address ? " The Frenchman, who was
greatly agitated, produced a card. We bowed and sepa*
rated.
I was glancing over the address I held in my hand,
which was — C. de Vavirartj Rue de Bourbon, Num€ro
, when my ears were saluted with —
»*Now do you know me? — thou shouldst be Alonzo. "
I did not require the faculty of sight to recognise Lord
Vincent. " My dear fellow," said I, " I am rejoiced to see
you I " and thereupon I poured into his ear the particulars
of my morning adventure. Lord Vincent listened to me
with much apparent interest, and spoke very unaffectedly
of his readiness to serve me, and his regret at the occasion.
" Pooh I " said I, " a duel in France is not like one in
England ; the former is a matter of course ; a trifle of
common occurrence ; one makes an engagement to fight,
in the same breath as an engagement to dine ; but the latter
IB a thing of state and solemnity — long faces — early rising
— and will-making. But do get this business over as soon
as you can, that we may dine at the Rocher afterwards."
"Well, my dear Pelham," said Vincent, "I cannot
refuse you my services ; and as I suppose Monsieur di
ADYENTUfiBS Ol* A GENTLEMAN. 183
Vautran will choose swords, I venture to augur every
thing from your skill in that species of weapon. It is the
first time I h&ve ever interfered in affairs of this nature,
but I hope to get well through the present
' Nobilis omatur lauro collega teeundo,^
as Juvenal says ; au revoir,^^ and away went Lord Vincent,
half forgetting all his late anxiety for my life in his paternal
pleasure for the delivery of his quotation.
Vincent is the only punster I ever knew with 'a good
heart. No action, to that race in general, is so serious an
occupation as the play upon words ; and the remorseless
habit of murdering a phrase, renders them perfectly obdu-
rate to the simple death of a friend. I walked through every
variety the straight paths of the Tuileries could afford, and
was beginning to get exceedingly tired, when Lord Vincent
returned. He looked very grave, and I saw at once that he
was come to particalarize the circumstances of the last
extreme. "The Bois de Boulogne — pistols — in one
hour,^^ were the three leading features of his detail.
" Pistols ! " said I ; " well, be it so. I would rather
have had swords, for the young man's sake as much as my
own ; but thirteen paces and a steady aim will settle the
business as soon. We will try a bottle of the Chambertin
to-day, Vincent." The punster smiled faintly, and for once
in his life made no reply. We walked gravely and soberly
to my lodgings for the pistols, and then proceeded to the
engagement as silently as philosophers should do.
The Frenchman and his second were on the ground
184 pelham; or,
first I saw that the former was pale and agitated, not, I
think, from fear, but passion. When we took our ground,
Yincent came to me, and said, in a low tone, ** For Hea*
yen's sake, suffer me to accommomodate this, if possible I "
" It is not in our power," said I, receiving the pistol.
I looked steadily at de Yautsan, and took my aim. His
pistol, owing, I suppose, to the trembling of his hand,
went off a moment sooner than he had anticipated — the
ball grazed my hat My aim was more successful — I struck
him in the shoulder — the exact place I had inteneded.
He staggered a few paces, but did not fall
We hastened towards him — his cheek assumed a still
more livid hue as I approached I he muttered some half-
formed curses between his teeth, and turned from me to
bis second.
" You will inquire whether Monsieur de Yautran is
satisfied," said I to Yincent, and retired to a short distance.
" His second," said Yincent, (after a brief conference
with that person,) " reph'es to my question, that Monsieur
de Yautran 's wound has left him, for the present, no alter-
native." Upon this answer I took Yincent's arm, and we
returned forthwith to my carriage.
" I congratulate you most sincerely on the event of
this duel," said Yincent " Monsieur de M (deYau-
tran's second) informed me, when I waited on him, that
your antagonist was one of the most celebrated pistol shots
in Paris, and that a lady with whom he had been long io
love, made the death of the chain-bearer the price of her
favors. Devilish lucky for you, my good fellow, that hia
ADVBNTURBS OP A GINTLBMAN. 185
hand trembled so ; but I did not know you were so good
a shot"
"Why," I answered, "I am not what is vulgarly termed ' a
crack shot ' — I cannot split a bullet on a penknife ; but I
am sure of a target somewhat smaller than a man : and
my hand is as certain in the field as it is in the practice-
yard."
"Le aentimerU de nos forces les augmerUe,^^ * replied
Vincent " Shall I tell the coachman to driye to the
Rocher?"
CHAPTER XXIX.
Here's a kind host, that makes the ioTitation,
To year own cost, to his /or< bonne eoUation.
Wtohirlt's Gent. Dancing Matter,
Yons pouvez hien jnger que je n'aurai pas grande peine ^ me
eonsoler d'une chose dont je me sais d^j& console tante de fois. —
JbettrtM de Boiliau.
As I was walking home with Vincent from the Bue
MonUorgueilf I saw, on entering the Rils St. HonorS, two
figures before us ; the tall and noble stature of the one I
could not for a moment mistake. They stopped at the
door of an hotel, which opened in that noiseless manner so
peculiar to the Gondergerie of France. I was at the door
* The conTiction of our forces augments them.
16*
188 pelham; OBy
tbe moment they disappearej", but not before I had caught
a glance of the dark locks and pale countenance of War-
burton, — my eye fell upon the number of the hotel.
•' Surely," said I, *' I have been in that house before."
" Likely enough," growled Vincent, who was gloriously
drunk. " It is a house of two-fold utility — you may play
with cards, or coquet with women, which you please."
At these words I remembered the hotel and its inmates
immediately. It belonged to an old nobleman, who, though
on the brink of the grave, was still grasping at the good
things on the margin. He lived with a pretty and clever
woman, who bore the name and honors of his wife. They
kept up two salons, one pour le petit souper, and the other
pour le petit jeu. You saw much icarte and more love-
making, and lost your heart and your money with equal
facility. In a word, the marquis and Ms joHe petite femme
were a wise and prosperous couple, who made the best of
their lives, and lived decently and honorably upon other
people.
"Allons, Pelham," cried Vincent, as I was still standing
at the door in deliberation ; " how much longer will you
keep me to congeal in this * eager and nipping air '—
' Quamdiu patientiam nostram abutere, Gatilina.'"
" Let us enter," said I. ** I have the run of the house,
and we may find "
** ' Some young vices — some fair iniquities,' " interrupted
Vincent, with a hiccup —
<* < Leade on, good fellpwe,' quoth Robin Hood,
*Lead on, I do bid thee.'"
ADVENTURES OF A QENTLEMAN. 18t
And with these words, the door opened in obedience
to my rap, and we monnted to the marqnis's tenement au
premise.
The room was pretty fall — the soidisante marqnis was
flitting from table to table — betting at each, and coquet-
ting with all ; and the marquis himself, ?rith a moist eye
and a shaking hand, was affecting the Don Jnan with the
Tarioas Elviras and Annas with which his salon was
crowded. Yincent was trying to follow me throagh the
crowd, bat his confused vision and unsteady footing led
bina from one entanglement to another, till he was quite
unable to proceed. A tall, corpulent Frenchman, six foot
by five, was leaning, (a great and weighty objection,) just
before him, utterly occupied in the vicissitudes of an icart^
table, and unconscious of Vincent's repeated efforts, first
on one side, and then on the other, to pass him.
At last, the perplexed wit, getting more irascible as h<»
grew more bewildered, suddenly seized the vast incum-
brance by the arm, and said to him, in a sharp, querulous
tone, " Pray, Monsieur, why are you like the lote-tree in
Mahomet's Seventh heaven?"
" Sir I " cried the astonished Frenchman.
''Because," (continued Yincent, answering his own
enigma) — " because, beyond you there is no passing I "
The Frenchman (one of that race who always forgive
any thing for a bon mot) smiled, bowed, and drew himself
aside. Yincent steered by, and joining me, hiccuped out,
"Fortiaque adversis opponite pectora rebus."
Meanwhile I had looked round the room for'the objects
188 pelham; or,
of my pnrsait : to my great surprise I coald not percefte
them ; they may be in the other room, thought I, and to
the other room I went ; the supper was laid out, and an
old bonne was quietly helping herself to some sweetmeat
All other human beings (if, indeed, an old woman can be
called a human being 1) were, however, invisible, and I
remained perfectly bewildered as to the non-appearance
of Warburton and his companion. I entered the gaming
room once more — I looked round in every comer — I
examined every face — but in vain ; and with a feeling
of disappointment very disproportioned to my loss, I took
Vincent's arm, and we withdrew.
The next morning I spent with Madame d'Anville. A
Frenchwoman easily consoles herself for the loss of a lover
— she converts him into a friend, and thinks herself (no*
IS she much deceived) benefited by the exchange. We
talked of our grief in maxims, and bade each other adieu
in antitheses. Ah ! it is a pleasant thing to drink with
Alcidonis (in MarmontePs Tale) of the rose-colored phial
— to sport with the fancy, not to brood over the passion
of youth. There is a time when the heart, from very
tenderness, runs over, and (so much do our virtues as well
as vices flow from our passions) there is, perhaps, rather
hope than anxiety for the future in that excess. Then, if .
Pleasure errs, it errs through heedlessness, not design ;
and Love, wandering over flowers, " proffers honey, but
bears 7iot a sting." Ah I happy time ! in the lines of on«
who can so well translate feeling into words —
)
ADTENTUBXS OF A GENTLEMAN 189
*'Fate has not darkened thee — Hope has not mads
The blossoms expand it but opens to fade ;
Nothing is known of those wearing fears
Which will shadow the light of our after years."
Th€ ImprovUatricA,
Pardon this digression — not mach, it mast be confessed
in my ordinary strain — but let me, dear reader, very
serionsly advise thee not to jndge of me yet. When thou
hast got to the end of my book, if thou dost condemn it
or its hero — why " I will let thee alone " (as honest
Dogberry advises) " till thou art sober ; and, if thoa make
me not, then, the better answer, thou art not the man I
took thee for."
CHAPTER XXX
It must be confessed, that flattery comes mightily easy to one's
mouth in the presence of royalty. — Letters of Stephen Montagus.
*Tis he. — How came he thence — what doth he here ? — La&a.
I HAD received for that evening (my last at Paris) an
invitation from the Duchesse de B . I knew that the
party was to be small, and that very few besides the royal
family would compose it. I had owed the honor of this
invitation to my intimacy with the s, the great
friends of the duchesse, and I promised myself some plea-
sure in the engagement
There were but eight or nine persons present when I
entered the royal chamber. The most distinguished of
these I recognized immediately as the , He came
i90 pelham; ob,
forward with mach grace as I approached, and ezpresssed
his pleasure at seeing me.
" You were presented, I think, about a month ago,"
added the , with a smile of singular fascination ; ** I
remember it well."
I bowed low to this compliment.
Do you propose staying long at Paris ?" continued
uhe .
"I protracted," I replied, "my departure solely for
the honor this eyening affords me. In so doing, please
your , I have followed the wise maxim oi keeping
the greatest pleasure to the last."
The royal chevalier bowed to my answer with a smile
still sweeter than before, and began a conversation, with
me which lasted for several minutes. I was much struck
with the 's air and bearing. They possess great
dignity, without any affectation of its assumption. He
speaks peculiarly good English, and the compliment of
addressing me in that language was therefore as judicious
as delicate. His observations owed little to his rank ;
they would have struck you as appropriate, and the air
which accompanied them pleased you as graceful, even in
a simple individual. Judge, then, if they charmed me in
the . The upper part of his countenance is prominent
and handsome, and his eyes have much softness of expres-
sion, His figure is slight and particularly well knit;
perhaps he is altogether more adapted to strike in private
than with public effect. Upon the whole, he is ono of
those very few persons of great rank whom you would
▲ DYENTTJRES OF A GEDTLEMAN. 191
have bad pride in knowing as an eqnal, and have pleasure
in acknowledging as a superior.*
As the paused, and turned with great courtesy to
the Due de , I bowed my way to the Duchesse de
B . That personage, whose liveliness and piquancy
of manner always make one wish for one's own sake that
aer rank was less exalted, was speaking with great volu-
bility to a tall, stupid-looking man, one of the ministers,
and smiled most graciously upon me as I drew near. She
Bpoke to me of our national amusements. " You are not,"
said she, "so fond of dancing as we are."
" We have not the same exalted example to be at onc<»
our motive and our model," said I, in allusion to the
Duchesse's well-known attachment to that accomplishment.
The Duchesse d'A came up as I said this, and the
conversation flowed on evenly enough till the 's whist
party was formed. His partner was Madame de la R ,
the heroine of La Yendee. She was a tall and very stout
woman, singularly lively and entertaining, and appeared
to possess both the moral and the physical energy to ac-
complish feats still more noble than those she performed.
I soon saw that it would not do for me to stay very
long. I had already made a favorable impression, and,
-*
"^The sketch of these unfortunate members of an exiled and
illastrious family may not be the less interesting from the reverses
which, since the first publication of this work, placed the Orleans
family on the Bourbon throne. As for the erring Charles X., he
was, neither a great monarch nor a wise man, but he was, in air,
grace, and manner, the most thorough-bred gentleman I ever met
IVS pelham; OB,
ID snch cases, it is my constant rule immediately to retire
Stay, if it be whole hours, until you have pleased, but
leave the moment after your success. A great genius
should not linger too long either in the salon or the world.
He must quit each with icla£. In obedience to this rule,
I no sooner found that my court had been effectually made
than I rose to withdraw.
" You will return soon to Paris," said the Dnchesse de
B .
'* I cannot resist it," I replied. " Mon corps reviendra
pour chercher mon cceurJ^
" We shall not forget you," said the Dachesse.
"Your Royal Highness has now given me my only
inducement not to return," I answered, as I bowed out of
the room.
It was much too early to go home ; at that time I was
too young and restless to sleep till long after midnight ;
and while I was deliberating in what manner to pass the
hours, I suddenly recollected the hotel in the Rue St.
Honors, to which Yincent and I had paid so unceremonious
a visit the night before. Impressed with the hope that I
might be more successful in meeting Warburton than I
had then been, I ordered the coachman to drive to the
abode of the old Marquis .
The salon was as crowded as usual. I lost a few
Napoleons at icartif in order to pay my entree, and then
commenced a desultory flirtation with one of the fair de-
coys. In this occupation my eye and my mind frequently
wandered. I could not divest myself of the hope of onee
ADYENTUBSS OF A GENTLEMAN. 198
more seeins: Warburton before my departure from Paris,
»nd every reflection which confirmed my suspicions of bia
identity redoubled my interest in his connection with Tyr-
rell and the vulgar debauche of the Rue St. Dominique
I was making some languid reply to my Cynthia of the
minute, when my ear was suddenly greeted by an English
voice. I looked round, and saw Thornton in close con-
versation with a man whose back was turned to me, but
whom I rightly conjectured to be Tyrrell.
"Oh I he'll be here soon," said the former, "and we'll
bleed him regularly to-night. It is very singular that you
who play so much better should not have floored him
yesterday evening."
Tyrrell replied in a tone so low as to be inaudible, and
a minute afterwards the door opened, and Warburton
entered. He came up instantly to Thornton and his com-
panion ; and after a few words of ordinai^y salutation,
Warburton said, in one of those modulated but artificial
tones so peculiar to himself, " I am sure, Tyrrell, that you
must be eager for your revenge. To lose to such a mere
tyro as myself, is quite enough to double the pain of de-
feat, and the desire of retaliation."
I did not hear TyrrelPs reply, but the trio presently '
moved towards the door, which till then I had not noticed,
and which was probably the entrance to our hostess's
boudoir. The soi-disante marquise opened it herself, for
which kind office Thornton gave her a leer and a wink,
characteristic of his claims to gallantry. When the door
vas again closed upon them, I went up to the marquise,
1.-17 N
194 pelham; OB,
and after a few compliments, asked whether the room
Messieurs les Anglais had entered was equally open to
all gaests ?
"Why," said she, with a slight hesitation, "those
gentlemen play for higher stakes than we usually do here,
and one of them is apt to get irritated by the advice ^nd
expostulations of the lookers-on ; and so after they had
played a short time in the salon last night, Monsienr
Thornton, a very old friend of mine, (here the lady looked
down,) asked me permission to occupy the inner room ;
and as I knew him so well, I could have no scruple in
obliging -him."
" Then, I suppose," said I, " that as a stranger, I hare
not permission to intrude upon them ? "
" Shall I inquire ? " answered the marquise.
" No I " said I, " it is not worth while ; " and accord-
ingly Ire-seated myself, and appeared once more occupied
in saying des belles choses to my kind-hearted neighbor.
I could not, howeyer, with all my dissimulation, sustain a
conversation from which my present feelings were so
estranged, for more than a few minutes ; and I was never
more glad than when my companion, displeased with my
inattention, rose, and left me to my own reflections.
What could Warburton (if he were the person I sns
pected) gain by the disguise he had assumed ? He was
too rich to profit by any sums he could win from Tyrrell,
and too much removed from Thornton's station in life, to
derive any pleasure or benefit from his acquaintance with
that person. His dark threats of vengeance in the Jardin
ADTSNTUBES OF A GENTLEMAN. 195
dea plantes, and his reference to the two hundred pounds
Tyrrell possessed^ gave me, indeed, some clue as to hia
real object ; but then — why this disguise I Had he known
Tyrrell before, in his proper semblance, and had anything
passed between them, which rendered this concealment
now expedient ? — this, indeed, seemed probable enough ;
but, was Thornton entrusted with the secret ? — and, if
revenge was the object, was that low man a partaker in
its execution ? — or was he not, more probably, playing
the traitor to both? As for Tyrrell himself, his own
designs upon Warburton were sufficient to prevent pity
for any fall into the pit he had digged for others.
Meanwhile, time passed on, the hour grew late, and
the greater part of the guests were gone ; still I could
not tear myself away ; I looked from time to time at the
door, with an indescribable feeling of anxiety. I longed,
yet dreaded, for it to open ; I felt as if my own fate were
in some' degree implicated in what was then agitating
within, and I could not resolve to depart, until I had
iformed some conclusions on the result.
At length the door opened ; Tyrrell came forth — his
countenance was perfectly hueless, his cheek was sunk and
hollow, the excitement of two hours had been sufficient to
render it so. I observed that his teeth were set, and hia
hand clenched, as they are when we idly seek, by the
strained and extreme tension of the nerves, to sustain the
fever and the agony of the mind. Warbnrton and Thorn-
ton followed him ; the latter with his usual air of reckless
indifference — his quick rolling eye glanced from the mar-
196 pxlham; ob,
quise to myself, and though his color changed sh'ghtlj, fab
nod of recognition was made with its wonted impudence
and ease ; but Warburton passed on, like Tyrrell, without
noticing or heeding anything around. He fixed his large
bright eye upon the figure which preceded him, without
once altering its direction, and the extreme beauty of his
features, which, not all the dishevelled length of his hair
and whiskers could disguise, was lighted up with a joyous
but savage expression, which made me turn away, almost
vith a sensation of fear.
Just as Tyrrell was leaving the room, Warburton pat
his hand upon his shoulder — *'Stay," said he, **I am
going your way, and will accompany you." He turned
round to Thornton (who was already talking with the
marquise) as he said this, and waved his hand, as if to
prevent his following ; the next moment, Tyrrell and him-
self had left the room.
I could not now remain longer. I felt a feverish rest-
lessness, which impelled me onwards. I quitted the salon^
and was on the staircase before the gamesters had de-
scended. Warburton was, indeed, but a few steps before
me ; the stairs were but very dimly lighted by one expiring
lamp ; he did not turn round to see me, and was probably
too much engrossed to hear me.
" You may yet have a favorable reverse," said he to
Tyrrell.
'' Impossible ! " replied the latter, in a tone of such deep
anguish, that it thrilled me to the very heart. '* I am ao
h
ADYENTUXIES OF A GENTLEMAN. 191
ntter beggar — I have nothing in the world — I have no
expectation but to starve I "
While he was saying this, I perceived by the faint and
nncertain lights that Warbnrton's hand was raised to hia
own coantenance.
" Have yoa no hope — no spot wherein to look for com-
fort — is beggary your absolute and only possible resource
from famine ? " he replied, in a low and suppressed tone.
At that moment we were jnst descending into the court-
yard. Warburton was but one step behind Tyrrell : the
latter made no answer ; but as he passed from the dark
staircase into' the clear moonlight of the court, I caught
a glimpse of the big tears which rolled heavily and silently
down his cheeks. Warburton laid his hand upon him.
*• Turn," he cried, suddenly, " your cup is not yet full
— look upon me — and remember J ^^
I pressed forward — the light shone full upon the coun-
tenance of the speaker — the dark hair was gone — my
suspicions were true — I discovered at one glance the
bright locks and lofty brow of Reginald Glanville. Slowly
Tyrrell gazed, as if he were endeavoring to repel some
terrible remembrance, which gathered, with every instant,
more fearfully upon him ; until, as the stern countenance
of Olanville grew darker and darker in its mingled scorn
and defiance, he uttered one low cry, and sank senselesa
upon the earth.
n»
198 pelham; ob,
CHAPTER XXXI.
Well, he is gone, and with him go these thoughts.^-
Shakspsabi.
What ho! for England ! — 75u/.
I HAVE always had an insaperable horror of being placed
(n what the vulgar call a predicament. In a predicamenl
I was most certainly placed at the present moment. A
man at my feet in a fit — the caase of it having very wisely
disappeared, devolving upon me the charge of watching
recovering, and conducting home the afflicted person —
made a concatenation of disagreeable circumstances, as
much unsuited to the temper of Henry Pelham, as his evil
fortune could possibly have contrived.
After a short pause of deliberation, I knocked up the
porter, procured some cold water, and bathed Tyrrell's
temples for several moments before he recovered. He
opened his eyes slowly, and looked carefully round with a
fearful and suspicious glance : " Gone — gone — (he mat-
tered)— ay — what did he here at such a moment? —
vengeance — for what? J could not tell it would have
killed her — let him thank his own folly. I do not fear ;
I defy his malice." And with these words Tyrrell sprung
to his feet
" Can I assist you to your home ? " said I ; " you are
Btill unwell — pray suffer me to have that pleasure.''
I spoke with some degree of warmth and sincerity ; the
▲ DYSNTUBES OF A QENTELMAN. 199
unfortanate man stared wildly at me for a moment, before
he replied. " Who," said he, at last, " who speaks to me
— the lost — the guilty — the ruined, in the accents of
interest and kindness?"
I placed his arm in mine, and drew him out of the yard
into the open street. He looked at me with an eager and
wistful survey, and then, by degrees, appearing to recover
his full consciousness of the present, and recollection of
the past, he pressed my hand warmly, and after a short
silence, during which we moved on slowly towards the
Tuileries, he said, — " Pardon me, sir, if I have not suf-
ficiently thanked you for your kindness and attention. I
am now quite restored j the close room in which I have
been sitting for so many hours, and the feverish excitement
of p]^y, acting upon a frame much debilitated by ill healths
occasioned my momentary indisposition. I am now, I
repeat, quite recovered, and will no longer trespass upon
your good-nature."
*' Really," said I, " you had better not discard my services
yet. Do suffer me to accompany you home ? "
** Home I " muttered -Tyrrell, with a deep sigh ; "no —
no I " and then, as if recollecting himself, he said, " I thank
you, sir, but — ^but — "
I saw his embarrassment, and interrupted him.
** Well, if I cannot assist you any further, I will take
your dismissal. I trust we shall meet again under auspices
better calculated for improving acquaintance."
Tyrrell bowed, once more pressed my hand, and we
rarted. I hurried on up the long street towards my hotel
200 pelham; or,
When I had got several paces beyond Tyrrell, I turned
back to look at him. He was standing in the same place
n which I had left him. I saw by the moonlight that his
face and hands were raised towards Heaven. It was but
for a moment : his attitude changed while I was yet looking
and he slowly and calmly continued his way in the samo
direction as myself. When I reached my chambers, I
hastened immediately to bed, but not to sleep : the extra-
ordinary scene I had witnessed ; the dark and ferocious
expression of Glanville's countenance, so strongly impressed
with every withering and deadly passion ; the fearful and
unaccountable remembrance that had seemed to gather
over the livid and varying face of the gamester ; the mys-
tery of Glanville's disguise ; the intensity of a revenge so
terribly expressed, together with the restless and burning
anxiety I felt — not from idle curiosity, but, from my early
and intimate friendship for Glanville, to fathom its cause
— all crowded upon my mind with a feverish confusion,
that effectually banished repose.
It was with that singular sensation of pleasure which
none but those who have passed fpequent nights in restless
and painful agitation, can recognize, that I saw the bright
Bun penetrate through my shutters, and heard Bedos move
across my room.
" What hour will Monsieur have the post-horses ? " said
that praiseworthy valet.
"At eleven," answered I, springing out of bed with joy
at the change of scene which the very mention of mj
journey brought before my mind.
ADYSNTUHES OF A GENTLEMAN. 201
I was tarDing listlessly, as I sate at breakfast, over the
pages of Galignani's Messenger, when the following para*
graph caught my attention : —
" It is ramored among the circles of the Faabonrg, that
a duel was fought on , between a young Englishman
and Monsieur D ; the cause of it is said to be the
pretensions of both to the beautiful Duchesse de P »
who, if report be true, cares for neither of the gallants,
but lavishes her favors upon a certain attach^ to the
English embassy."
** Such," thought I, ** are the materials for all human
histories. Every one who reads, will eagerly swallow this
account as true : if an author were writing the memoirs of
the court, he would compile his facts and scandal from this
very collection of records ; and yet, though so near the
truth, how totally false it is 1 Thank Heaven, however,
that, at least, I am not suspected of the degradation of
the duchess's love : — to fight for her may make me seem
a fool — to be loved by her would constitute me a villain."
" The horses, sir I " said Bedos ; and ** The bill, sir ? "
said the garden, Alas I that those and that should be so
coupled together ; and that we can never take our depar-
ture without such awful witnesses of our sojourn. Well
' — to be brief — the bill for once was discharged — the
horses snorted — the carriage-door was opened — I entered
— Bedos mounted behind — crack went the whips »- off
went the steeds, and so terminated my adventures at dear
Paris.
802 pelham; ob.
CHAPTER XXXII.
0, cousin, you know him — the fine gentleman they talk of so
much in town. — Wtohebly's Dancing Matter,
By the bright days of my youth, there is something
truly delightful in the quick motion of four, ay, or even
two post-horses ! In France, where one's steeds are none
of the swiftest, the pleasures of trayelling are not quite so
great as in England ; still, however, to a man who is tired
of one scene — panting for another — in love with excite-
ment, and yet not wearied of its pursuit — the turnpike-
road is more grateful than the easiest chair ever invented,
and the little prison we entitle a carriage, more cheerful
than the state rooms of Devonshire House.
We reached Calais in safety, and in good time, the next
day.
''Will Monsieur dine in his rooms, or at the table
d'hdie ?"
" In his rooms, of course," said Bedos, indignantly deci-
ding the question. A French valet's dignity is always
involved in his master's.
"You are too good, Bedos," said I, "I shall dine at
the table d'hdte — whom have you there in general ?"
" Really," said the gargon, " we have such a swift suc-
cession of gTiests, that we seldom see the same faces two
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 203
days ranning. We have as many cnanges as an English
administration."
"You are facetious," said I
" No," returned the gargon,. who was a philosopher as
well as a wit ; " no, my digestive organs are very weak,
and par consequence, I am naturally melancholy — Ah,
mafoif trds tristef" and with these words the sentimental
plate-changer placed his hand — I can scarcely say, whether
on his heart, or his stomach, and sighed bitterly I
"How long," said I, "does it want to dinner?" My
question restored the garden to himself.
"Two hours, Monsieur, two hours," and twirling his
serviette with an air of exceeding importance, off went my
melancholy acquaintance to compliment new customers,
and complain of his digestion.
After I had arranged my toilette — yawned three times,
and drunk two bottles of soda-water, I strolled into the
town. As I was sauntering along leisurely enough, I heard
my name pronounced behind me. I turned, and saw Sir
Willoughby Townshend, an old baronet of an antediluvian
age — a fossil witness of the wonders of England, before
the deluge of French manners swept away ancient customs,
and created, out of the wrecks of what had been, a new
order of things, and a new race of mankind.
" Ah I my dear Mr. Pelham, how are you ? and the
worthy Lady Frances, your mother, and your excellent
father, all well? — I'm delighted to hear it. Russelton,''
continued Sir Willoughby, turning to a middle-aged mau,
whose arm he held, " you remember Pelham — true Whig
204 pelham; ob»
— great friend of Sheridan's f — let me introdace his son
to you. Mr. Russelton, Mr. Pelham ; Mr. Pelham, Mr.
Busselton."
At the name of the person thus introduced to me, a
thousand recollections crowded upon my mind ; the con-
temporary and rival of Napoleon — the autocrat of the
great world of fashion and cravats — the mighty genius
before whom aristocracy hath been humbled and ton
abashed — at whose nod the h&xxghtieEt noblesse of Europe
had quailed — who had introduced, by a single example,
starch into neckcloths, and had fed the pampered appetite
of his boot-tops on champagne — whose coat and whose
friend were cut with an equal grace — and whose name
was connected with every triumph that the world's great
virtue of audacity could achieve — the illustrious, the im-
mortal Russelton, stood before me I I recognized in him
a congenial, though a superior spirit, and I bowed with a
profundity of veneration, with which no other human being
has ever inspired me.
Mr. Russelton seemed pleased with my evident respect,
and returned my salutation with a mock dignity which
enchanted me. He offered me his disengaged arm ; I took
it with transport, and we all three proceeded up the street
" So," said Sir Willoughby — "so, Russelton, you like
your quarters here ; plenty of sport among the English, I
should think : you have not forgot the art of quizzing ; eh,
old fellow f"
"Even if I had," said Mr. Russelton, speaking very
slowly, " the sight of Sir Willoughby Townshend would
ADYENTDBES OV A GENTLEMAN. 205
be quite sufficient to refresh my memory. Yes," continued
the venerable wreck, after a short pause — " yes, I like my
residence pretty well ; I enjoy a calm conscience, and a
olean shirt : what more can man d^ire ? I have made
acquaintance with a tame parrot, and I have taught it to
Bay, whenever an English fool with a stiff neck and a loose
swagger passes him — 'True Briton — true Briton.' I
take care of my health, and reflect upon old age. I have
read Gil Bias, and the Whole Duty of Man ; and, in short,
what with instructing my parrot, and improving myself, I
think I pass my time as creditably and decorously as the
Bishop of Winchester, or my Lord of A himself. So
you have just come from Paris, I presume, Mr. Pelham ? "
" I left it yesterday 1 "
** Full of those horrid English, I suppose ; thrusting
their broad hats and narrow minds into every shop in the
Palais Royal — winking their dull eyes at the damsels of
the counter, and manufacturing their notions of French
into a higgle for sous. Oh I the monsters 1 — they bring
on a bilious attack whenever I think of them : the other
day one of them accosted me, and talked me into a nervous
fever about patriotism and roast pigs : luckily I was near
my own house, and reached it before the thing became
fatal ; but only think, had I wandered too far when he met
me I at my time of life, the shock would have been too
great ; I should certainly have perished in a fit. I hope at
least, they would have put the cause of my death in my
epitaph — * Died, of an Englishman, John Russelton, Esq.,
I. — 18
206 PELHAM; OB,
aged,* &c. Pah 1 You are not engaged, Mr. Pelham ; dine
with me to-day ; Willoughby and his umbrella are coming,'f
" Volontiers,^^ said I, " though I was going to make
observations on mexiand manners at the table (V hdte of
my hotel."
"I am most truly grieved," replied Mr. Russelton, "at
depriving you of so much amusement. With me you will
only find some tolerable Lafitte, and an anomalous dish
my cuisinidre calls a mutton chop. It will be curious to
see what variation in the monotony of mutton she will
adopt to-day. The first time I ordered ' a chop,' I thought
I had amply explained every necessary particular ; a certain
portion of flesh, and a gridiron : at seven o'clock up came
a cdtelette panie / Faute de mieuxj I swallowed the com-
position, drowned as it was in a most pernicious sauce.
I had one hour's sleep, and the nightmare, in consequence.
The next day, I imagined no mistake could be made : sauce
was strictly prohibited ; all extra ingredients laid under a
most special veto, and a natural gravy gently recommend-
ed : the cover was removed, and lo I a breast of mutton,
all bone and gristle, like the dying gladiator 1 This time
my heart was too full for wrath ; I sat down and wept I
To-day will be the third time I shall make the experiment,
if French cooks will consent to let one starve upon nature.
For my part, I have no stomach left now for art : I wore
out my digestion in youth, swallowing Jack St. Leger's
suppers, and Sheridan's promises to pay. Pray, Mr. Pel
ham, did you try Staub when you were at Paris V
" Yes : and thought him one degree better tbaiv Stultz,
APYENTUKES OF A GENTLEMAN. 201
whom, indeed, I have long condemned, as fit only for minora
at Oxford, and majors in the infantry."
" True," said Russelton, with a very faint smile at a pun,
Bomewhat in his own way, and levelled at a tradesman, of
whom he was, perhaps, a little jealous — "True; Stulta
aims at making gentlemen^ not coats ; there is a degree of
aristocratic pretension in his stitches, which is vulgar to
an appalling degree. You can tell a Stultz coat any where,
which is quite enough to damn it ; the moment a man's
known by an invariable cut, and that not orginal, it ought
to be ail over with him. Give me the man who makes the
tailor, not the "tailor who makes the man."
" Right, by Jove 1 " cried Sir Willoughby, who was as
badly dressed as one of Sir E 's dinners. ** Right ;
just my opinion. I have always told my Schneiders to make
my clothes neither in the fashion nor out of it ; to copy no
other man's coat, and to cut their cloth according to my
natural body, not according to an isosceles triangle. Look
at this coat, for instance," and Sir Willoughby Townshend
made a dead halt, that we might admire his garment the
more accurately.
" Coat I " said Russelton, with an appearance of the
most naive surprise, and taking hold of the collar, suspi-
ciously, by the finger and thumb ; " coat, Sir Willoughby I
do you call this thing a coaJt f "
208 PSLHAH; OB,
CHAPTER XXXIII-
J'ai toujoars cm que le boa n'^toit que le beau mis en ftcii^n. —
Rousseau.
Shortly after Russelton's answer to Sir Willoughby'a
enlogistic observations on his own attire, I left those two
worthies till I was to join them at dinner : it wanted three
hours yet to that time, and I repaired to my quarters to
bathe and write letters. I scribbled one to Madame D'An«
ville, fall of antitheses and maxims, sure to charm her ;
another to my mother, to prepare her for my arrival ; and
a third to Lord Yincent, giving him certain commissions
at Paris, which I had forgotten personally to execute.
My pen is not that of a ready writer; and what with
yawning, stretching, and putting pen to paper, it was time
to bathe and dress before my letters were completed. I
set off to Kusselton's abode in high spirits, and fully re-
solved to make the most of a character so original
It was a very small room in which I found him ; he was
stretched in an easy chair before the fire-place, gazing
complacently at his feet, and apparently occupied in any-
thing but listening to Sir Willoughby Townshend, who
was talking with great vehemence about politics and the
corn-laws. Notwithstanding the heat of the weather, there
was a small fire on the hearth, which aided by the earnest
ness of his efforts to convince his host, put poor Sir WU-
ADYBNTTJBES OF A GENTLEMAN. 20$
.oaghby into a most intense perspiration. Kusselton,
however, seemed enviably cool, and hung over the burning
wood like a cucumber on a hotbed. Sir Willoughby came
to a full stop by the window, and (gasping for breath)
attempted to throw it open.
" What are you doing ? for Heaven's sake, what are yoa
doing?" cried Kusselton, starting up; "do you mean to
kill me ? "
" Kill you 1 " said Sir Willoughby, quite aghast.
^* Tes ; kill me ! is it not quite cold enough already in
this d — d seafaring place, without making my only retreat,
humble as it is, a theatre for thorough draughts f Have
I not had the rheumatism in my left shoulder, and the
ague in my little finger, these last six months ? and must
yoa now terminate my miserable existence at one blow, by
opening that abominable lattice ? Do you think, because
your great frame, fresh from the Yorkshire wolds, and
compacted of such materials, that one would think, in
eating your beeves, you had digested their hide into skin
— do you think, because your limbs might be cut up into
planks for a seventy-eight, and warranted waterproof
without pitch, because of the density of their pores — do
yoQ think, because you are as impervious as an araphoroa*
tic shoe, that I, John Kusselton, am equally impenetrable,
and that you are to let easterly winds play about my room
Like children, begetting rheums and asthmas and all mann'er
of catarrhs ? I do beg, Sir Willoughby Townshend, tLat
'|oa will suffer me to die a more natural and civiliMl
18* o
21C pelham; or,
death ; " and so saying, Rnsselton sank down into his
chair, apparently in the last stage of exhaustion.
Sir WilloQghby, who remembered the. humorist in all
his departed glory, and still venerated him as a temple
where the deity yet breathed, though the altar was over-
thrown, made to this extraordinary remonstrance no other
reply than a long whiff, and a " Well, Russelton, damme
but you're a queer fellow."
Kusselton now turned to me, and invited me, with a
tone of the most lady-like languor, to sit down near the
fire. As I am naturally of a chilly disposition, and fond,
too, of beating people in their own line, I drew a chair
close to the hearth, declared the weather was very cold,
and requested permission to ring the bell for some more
wood. Kusselton stared for a moment, and then, with a
politeness he had not deigned to exert before, approached
his chair to mine, and began a conversation, which, in spite
of his bad witticisms, and peculiarity of manner, I found
singularly entertaining.
Dinner was announced, and we adjourned to another
room : — poor Sir Willoughby, with his waistcoat unbut-
toned, and breathing like a pug in a phthisis — groaned
bitterly, when he discovered that this apartment was
smaller and hotter than the one before. Kusselton imme-
diately helped him to some scalding soup — and said, as
he told the servant to hand Sir Willoughby the cayenne,
" you will find this, my dear Townshend, a very sensible
potage for this severe season."
Dinner went off tamely enough, with the exception of
ADYENTUBES OF A GSNTLEMAN. 211
" our fat friend's " agony, which Russelton enjoyed most
laxnrioasly. The threatened mutton-chops did not make
their appearance, and the dinner, though rather too small,
was excellently cooked, and better arranged. With the
dessert, the poor baronet rose, and pleading sudden indis-
position, tottered out of the door.
When he was gone, Busselton threw himself back in his
chair, and laughed for several minutes with a low chuckling
sound, till the tears ran down his cheek.
After a few jests at Sir Willoughby, our conversation
turned upon other individuals. I soon saw that Russelton
was a soured and disappointed man : his remarks on people
were all sarcasms — his mind was overflowed with a suf-
fusion of ill-^nature — he bit as well as growled. No man of
the world ever, I am convinced, becomes a real philosopher,
in retirement. People who have been employed for years
upon trifles have not the greatness of mind which could
alone make them indifferent to what they have coveted
all their lives, as most enviable and important.
" Have you read 's memoirs ? " said Mr. Russelton.
" No I Well, I imagined every one had at least dipped
into them. I have often had serious thoughts of dignifying
my own retirement, by the literary employment of detailing
my adventures in the world. I think I could throw a new
light upon things and persons, which my contemporaries
will shrink back like owls at perceiving."
" Tour life," said I, " must indeed furnish matter of
equal instruction and amusement."
*' Ay," answered Russelton : " amusement to the fools,
912 pelham; OB,
but instruction to the knaves. I am, indeed, a lamentable
Example to the fall of ambition. I brought starch into all
the neckcloths in England, and I end by tying my own
at a three-inch looking-glass at Calais. You are a young
man, Mr. Pelham, about to commence life, probably with
the same views as (though greater advantages than) my-
self; perhaps, in indulging my egotism, I shall not weary
without recompensing you.
" I came into the world with an inordinate love of glory,
and a great admiration of the original ; these propensities
might have made me a Shakspeare — they did more, they
made me a Busselton ! When I was six years old, I cut
my jacket into a coat, and turned my aunt's best petticoat
into a waistcoat. I disdained at eight the language of the
vulgar, and when my father asked me to fetch his slippers,
I replied, that my soul swelled beyond the limits of a lack-
ey's. At nine, I was self-inoculated with propriety of ideas.
I rejected malt with the air of His Majesty, and formed a
violent affection for maraschino ; though starving at school,
I never took twice of pudding, and paid sixpence a week
out of my shilling to have my shoes blacked. As I grew
up, my notions expanded. I gave myself, without restraint,
m
to the ambition that burnt within me — I cut my old friends,
who were rather envious than emulous of my genius, and
I employed three tradesmen to make my gloves — one for
the hand, a second for the fingers, and a third for the
thumb I These two qualities made me courted and admired
by a new race — for the great secrets of being courted are
to shun others, and seem delighted with yourself. The
AliYENTURES OF A*GENTLEMAN. 218
latter is obvious enough ; who the deuce should be pleased
with you, if you are not pleased with yourself ?
" Before I left college I fell in love. Other fellows., al
DBJ &g6» ^ su<^^ A predicament, would have whined-—
shaved only twice a week, and written verses. I did none
of the three — the last indeed I tried, but, to my infinite
surprise, I found my genius was not universal. I began
with
* Sweet nymph, for whom I wake my muse.'
*' For this, after considerable hammering, I could only
think of the rhyme ' shoes ' — so I began again,?—
<Thy praise demands much softer lutes.'
And the fellow of this verse terminated like myself in
* boots.' — -"Other efforts were equally successful — * bloom *
suggested to my imagination no rhyme bat ' perfume 1 '—
'despair' only reminded me of my 'hair,' — and 'hope'
was met, at the end of the second verse, by the inharmonious
antithesis of 'soap,^ Finding, therefore, that my forte
was not in the Pierian line, I redoubled my attention to
my dress ; I coated and cravcUted with all the attention
the very inspiration of my rhymes seemed to advise ; — in
short, I thought the best pledge I could give my Dulcinea
of my passion for her person, would be to show her what
affectionate veneration I could pay to my own.
'' My mistress could not withhold from me her admira-
tion, but she denied me her love. She confessed Mr.
Bnsselton was the best-dressed man at the University, and
bad the whitest hands ; and two days after this avowal,
fill pelham; OB,
she ran away with a great rosy-cheeked extract from
Leicestershire.
"I did not blame her : I pitied her too much — but I
made a vow never to be in love again. In spite of all
advantages I kept my oath, and avenged myself on the
epecies for the insult of the individual.
" Before I commenced a part which was to continue
through life, I considered deeply on the humors of the
spectators. I saw that the character of the more fashion-
able of the English was servile to rank, and yielding to
pretension — they admire you for your acquaintance, and
cringe to Jou for your conceit. The first thing, therefore,
was to know great people — the second to control them.
I dressed well, and had good horses — that was sufficient
to make me sought by the young of my own sex. I talked
scandal, and was never abashed — that was more than
enough to make me admired among the matrons of the
other. It is single men, and married women, to whom
are given the St. Peter's keys of Society. I was soon
admitted into its heaven — I was more — I was one of it§
saints. I became imitated as well as initiated. I was the
rage — the lion. Why f — was I better — was I richer
— was I handsomer — was I cleverer, than my kind f No,
no ; — (and here Russelton ground his teeth with a strong
and wrathful expression of scorn) ; — and had I been all
— had I been a veiy concentration and monopoly of all
human perfections, they would not have valued me at half
the price they did set on me. It was — I will tell you the
tfisiple secret, Mr. Pelham — it was because I trampled on
adyentui&es of a gentleman. 815
ikem, that, like crushed herbs, they sent up a grateful
incense in return.
'^ Oh I it was balm to my bitter and loathing temper, to
see those who would have spurned me from them, if the>
dared, writhe beneath my lash, as I withheld or inflicted
it at will. I was the magician who held the great spirits
that longed to tear me to pieces, by one simple spell which
a superior hardihood had won me — and, by Heaven, I
did not spare to exert it.
" Well, well, this is but an idle recollection now ; all
human power, says the proverb of every language, is but
of short duration. Alexander did not conquer kiugdoms
for ever ; and Russelton's good fortune deserted him at
last. Napoleon died in exile, and so shall I ; but we have
both had our day, and mine was the brightest of the two,
for it had no change till the evening. I am more happy
than people would think for — Je ne suis pas souvent oU
man corps est — I live in a world of recollections, I trample
again upon coronets and ermine, the glories of the small
great I I give once more laws which no libertine is so
hardy as not to feel exalted in adopting ; I hold my court
and issue my fiats ; I am like the madman, and out of the
very straws of my cell, I make my subjects and my realm ;
and when I wake from these bright visions, and see myself
an old, deserted man, forgotten, and decaying inch by inch
in a foreign village, I can at least summon sufficient of
my ancient regality of spirit not to sink beneath the reverse.
If I am inclined to be melancholy, why, I extinguish my
fire, and imagine I have demolished a duchess. I steal
316 PELHAH; OB,
up to my solitary chamber, to renew again, in my sleep
the phantoms of my youth ; to carouse with princes ; to
legislate for nobles ; and to wake in the morning (here
Kusselton's countenance and manner suddenly changed to
an affectation of methodistical gravity), and thank Heaven
that I have still a coat to my stomach, as well as to my
back, and that I am safely delivered of such villanous
company ; 'to forswear sack and live cleanly,' during the
rest of my sublunary existence. "
After this long detail of Mr. Russelton's, the conversation
was but dull and broken. I could not avoid indulging a
reverie upon what I had heard, and my host was evidently
still revolving the recollections his narration had conjured
up ; we sat opposite each other for several minutes, as
abstracted and distracted as if we had been a couple two
months married ; till at last I rose, and tendered my adieus.
Russelton received them with his usual coldness, but more
than his usual civility, for he followed me to the door.
Just as they were about to shut it, he called me back.
"Mr. Pelham," said he, "Mr. Pelham, when you come
back this way, do look in upon me, and — and as you will
be going a good deal into society, just find out what people
say of my manner of life / " *
* It will be perceived by those readers who are kind or patient
enough to reach the conclusion of this work, that Russelton is speci-
fied as one of my few dramatis personse of which only the first outline
is taken from real life, and from a very noted personage ; all th«t
rest — all, indeed, which forms and marks the character thus briefly
delineated, is drawn solely from imagination.
ADTKNTUBSS OF A OENTLEMAN. 211
CHAPTER XXXIV.
All old worshipful gentleman, thut had a great estate.
And kept a brave old house at a hospitable rate.
Old Song,
I THINK I may, without mnch loss to the reader, pass io
silence over my voyage, the next day, to Dover. (Horrible
reminiscence I) I may also spare him an exact detail of
all the inns and impositions between that sea-port and
London ; nor will it be absolutely necessary to the plot of
this history, to linger over every mile-stone between the
oietropolis and Glenmorris Castle, where my ancle and my
mother were impatiently awaiting the arrival of the can-
didate to be.
It was a fine bright evening when my carriage entered
the park. I had not seen the place for years ; and I felt
my heart swell with something like family pride, as I gazed
on the magnificent extent of hill and plain that opened
npon me, as I passed the ancient and ivy-covered lodge.
Large groups of trees, scattered on either side, seemed, in
their own antiquity, the witness of that of the family which
had given them existence. The sun set on the waters
which lay gathered in a lake at the foot of the hill, breaking
the waves into unnumbered sapphires, and tinging the dark
firs that overspread the margin, with a rich and golden
light, that put me excessively in mind of the Duke of
1— 's livery !
L — 19
918 pelham; ob.
When I descended at the gate, the servants, who stood
arranged in an order so long that it almost startled me,
received me with a visible gladness and animation, which
showed me, at one glance, the old-fashioned tastes of their
master. Who, in these days, ever inspires his servants
with a single sentiment of regard or interest for himself
or his whole race ? That tribe one never, indeed, considers
as possessing a life separate from their services to ns :
beyond that purpose of existence, we know not even if they
exist. As Providence made the stars for the benefit of
earth, so it made servants for the use of gentlemen ; and,
as neither stars nor servants appear except when we want
them, so I suppose they are in a sort of suspense from
beingf except at those important and happy moments.
To return — for if I have any fault, it is too great a love
for abstruse speculation and reflection — I was formally
ushered through a great hall, hung round with huge antlers
and rusty armor, through a lesser one, supported by large
stone columns, and without any other adornment than the
arms of the family ; then through an ante-room, covered
with tapestry, representing the gallantries of King Solomon
to the Queen of Sheba ; and lastly, into the apartment
honored by the august presence of Lord Glenmorris.
That personage was dividing the sofa with three spaniels
and a setter ; he rose hastily when I was announced, and
then checking the first impulse which hurried him, perhaps,
into an unseemly warmth of salutation, held out his hand
with a stately air of kindly protection, and while he pressed
ADYENTUBBS 07 A GENTLEMAN. 219
mine, surveyed me from head to foot, to see how far my
appearance jastified his condescension.
Having, at last, satisfied himself, he proceeded to inquir«
after the state of my appetite. He smiled benignanlly
when I confessed that I was excessively well prepared to
testify its capacities (the first idea of all kind-hearted,
old-fashioned people, is to stuff you), and, silently motion-
ing to the grey-headed servant who stood in attendance,
till, receiving the expected sign, he withdrew, Lord Glen-
morris informed me that dinner was over for every one
but myself, that for me it would be prepared in an instant,
that Mr. Toolington had expired four days since, that my
mother was, at that moment, canvassing for me, and that
my own electioneering qualities were to open their exhi-
bition with the following day.
After this communication there was a short pause*
" What a beautiful place this is 1 " said I, with great
enthusiasm. Lord Glenmorris was pleased with the com-
pliment, simple as it was.
"Yes," said he, "it is, and I have made it still more
80 than you have yet been able to perceive."
" You have been planting, probably, on the other side
of the park ? "
" No," said my uncle, smiling ; " Nature had done every
thing for this spot when I came to it, but one ; and the
addition of that one ornament is the only real triumph
which art ever can achieve."
"What is it ? " asked I ; "oh, I know — water."
" You are mistaken," answered Lord Glenmorria ; " it
*3 the ornament of — happy faces.*'
no pslhaM; OB,
I looked up to my ancle's countenance in sadden sarprfse.
I cannot explain how I was strnck with the expression
which it wore : so calmly bright and open I — it was as if
the very daylight had settled there.
" You don't understand this at present, Henry," said he,
after a moment'^ silence ; " but you will find it, of all rules
for the improvement of property, the easiest to learn.
Enough of this now. Were you not in despair at leaving
Paris ? »
" I should have been, some months ago ; but when I
received my mother's summons, I found the temptations
of the continent very light in comparison with those held
out to me here."
" What, have you already arrived at that great epoch,
when vanity casts off its first skin, and ambition succeeds
to pleasure ? Why — but thank Heaven that you have
lost my moral — your dinner is announced."
Most devoutly did I thank Heaven, and most earnestly
did I betake myself to do honor to my uncle's hospitality.
I had just finished my repast, when my mother entered.
She was, as you might well expect from her maternal affec-
tion, quite overpowered with joy, firsts at finding my hair
ijrown so much darker, and, secondly^ at my looking so
well. We spent the whole evening in discussing the great
business for which I had been summoned. Lord Glenmorris
promised me money, and my mother advice ; and I, in my
turn, enchanted them, by promising to make the best use
of both.
I
ADYENTUBES OF A QENTLEMAK. 231
CHAPTER XXXV.
Cor, Your good Toioe, sir <-* what say you !
2fuf CiL Yoa shall biaye it, worthy sir. — Ooriolanui,
The borough of Bayemall had long been in undisputed
possessiou of the Lords of Glenmorrris, till a rich banker,
of the name of Lufbon, had bought a large estate in the
immediate neighborhood of Glen morris Castle. This erent,
which was the precursor of a mighty revolution in the
borough of Buyemall, took place in the first year of my
ancle's accession to his property. A few months afterwards,
a vacancy in the borough occurring, my uncle procured
the nomination of one of his own political party^ To the
great astonishment of Lord Glenmorris, and the great
gratification of the burghers of Buyemall, Mr. Lufton
offered himself in opposition to the Glen morris candidate.
In this age of enlightenment, innovation has no respect
for the most sacred institutions of antiquity. The burghers,
for the only time since their creation as a body, were cast
first into doubt, and secondly into rebellion. The Lufton
faction, horresao referens^ were triumphant, and the rival
candidate was returned. From that hour, the Borough
nf Buyemall was open to all the world.
My uncle, who was a good easy man, and had some
strange notions of free representation, and liberty of elec-
tion, professed to care very little for this event. He con«
19*
222 pelham; ob,
tented himself, henceforward, with exerting his interest for
one of the members, and left the other seat entirely at the
disposal of the line of Lufton, which, from the time of the
first competition, continued peaceably to monopolize it
During the last two years, my uncle's candidate, the late
Mr. Toolington, had been gradually dying of a dropsy,
and the Luftons had been so particularly attentive to the
honest burghers, that it was shrewdly suspected a bold
push was to be made for the other seat. During the last
month these doubts were changed into certainty. Mr.
Augustus Leopold Lufton, eldest son to Benjamin Lufton,
Esq.^ had publicly declared his intention of starting at the
decease of Mr. Toolington ; against this personage behold
myself armed and arrayed.
Such is, in brief, the history of the borough, up to the
time in which I was to take a prominent share in its
interests and events.
On the second day after my arrival at the castle, the
following advertisement appeared at Buyemall : —
"To the Independent Electors of the Borough of
Buyemall.
" Gentlemen,
" In presenting myself to your notice, I advance a claim
not altogether new and unfounded. My family have for
centuries been residing amongst yon, and exercising that
interest which reciprocal confidence, and good offices, may
fairly create. Should it be my good fortune to be chosen
your representative, you may rely upon my utmost en-
deavors to deserve that honor. One word upon th«
ADVENTURES 07 A GENTLEMAN. 22S
principles I espouse : they are those which have fonnd
their advocates among the wisest and the best : they are
those which, hostile alike to the encroachments of the
crown, and the licentiousness of the people, would support
the real interests of both. Upon these grounds, gentlemen,
I have the honor to solicit your votes ; and it is with the
sincerest respect for your ancient and honorable body, that
I subscribe myself your very obedient servant,
" Henry Pelham."
" Glenmorris Castle," &c. &c.
Such was the first public signification of my intentions ;
It was drawn up by Mr. Sharpon, our lawyer, and con-
sidered by our friends as a masterpiece : for, as my mother
sagely observed, it did not commit me in a single instance
— espoused no principle, and yet professed principles which
all parties would allow were the best
At the first house where I called, the proprietor was a
clergyman of good family, who had married a lady from
Baker-street: of course the Reverend Combermere St.
Quintin and his wife valued themselves upon being ^^geri'
teeU^ I arrived at an unlucky moment; on entering the
hall, a dirty footboy was carrying a yellow- ware dish of
potatoes into the back room. Another G-anymede (a sort
of footboy-major), who opened the door, and who was still
^'settling himself into his cocUy which he had slipped on at
my tintinnabulary summons, ushered me with a mouth full
of bread and cheese into this said back room. I gave up
everything as lost, when I entered, and saw the lady
324 pelham; or,
helping her youngest child to some ineffable tiash, whicb
I have since heard is called "blackberry pudding."
Another of the tribe was bawling out, with a loud, hungry
tone — "A tatoe, pa I " The father himself was carving
for the little group, with a napkin stuffed into the top
button-hole of his waistcoat ; and the mother, with a long
bib, plentifully bespattered with congealing gravy, and
the nectarian liquor of the " blackberry pudding," was
sitting, with a sort of presiding complacency, on a high
•tool, like Juno on Olympus, enjoying rather than stilling
the confused hubbub of the little domestic deities, who ate,
clattered, spattered, and squabbled around her.
Amidst all this din and confusion, the candidate for the
borough of Buyemall was ushered into the household
privacy of the genteel Mr. and Mrs. St. Quintin. Up
started the lady at the sound of my name. The Rev.
Combermere St. Quintin seemed frozen into stone. The
plate Detween the youngest child and the blackberry
pudding stood as still as the sun in Ajalon. The morsel
between the mouth of the elder boy and his fork had a
respite from mastication. The Seven Sleepers could not
have been spell-bound more suddenly and completely.
" Ah," cried I, advancing eagerly, with an air of serious
and yet abrupt gladness ; " how lucky that I should find
you all at luncheon. I was up and had finished breakfast
BO early this morning that I am half famished. Only think
how fortunate. Hardy, (turning round to one of the mem-
bers of my committee, who accompanied me) ; I was just
saying what would I not give to find Mr. St. Quintin at
ADYENTURBS OF A GENTLEMAN. 225
luncheon. Will you allow me, Madam, to make one of
your party ? "
Mrs. St. Qaintin colored and faltered, and mattered
out something which I was fully resoWed not to hear. I
took a chair, looked round the table, not too attentively,
and said — ** Cold veal ; ah ! ah I nothing I like so much.
May I trouble you, Mr. St. Qaintin? — Hollo, my little
man, let's see if you can't give me a potato. There's a
brave fellow. How old are you, toy young hero ? — to
look atyoar mother, I should say two, to look &ti/ou, six."
" He is four next May," said his mother, coloring, and
this time not painfully.
" Indeed ? " said I, surveying him earnestly ; and then,
in a graver tone, I turned to the Kev. Combermere with
— ''I think you have a branch of your family still seitled
in France. I met a St. Quintin (the Due de Poictiers)
abroad."
** Yes," said Mr. Combermere, " yes, the name is still
in Normandy, but I was not aware of the title."
" No I " said I, with surprise ; " and yet (with another
look at the boy), it is astonishing how long family like-
nesses last. I was a great favorite with all the Due's
children. Do you know, I must trouble you for some more
veal, it is so very good, and I am so very hungry."
"How long have you been abroad?" said Mrs. St.
Quintin, who had slipped off her bib, and smoothed her
ringlets ; for which purposes I had been most adroitly
looking in an opposite direction the last three minutes.
''About seven or eight months. The fact is, that the
226 pelham; or,
continent only does for us English poeple to see — not to
inhabit ; and yet, there are some advantages there, Mr.
St. Quintin I — among others, that of the dne respect an-
cient birth is held in. Here, you know, 'money makes
tho man,' as the vulgar proverb has it ? "
" Yes," said Mr. St. Quintin, with a sigh, " it is really
dreadful to see those upstarts rising around us, and throw-
ing every thing that is respectable and ancient into the
back ground. Dangerous times these, Mr. Pelham —
9
dangerous times ; nothing but innovation upon the most
sacred institutions. I am sure, Mr. Pelham, that your
principles must be decidedly against these new-fashioned
doctrines, which lead to nothing but anarchy and confusion
— absolutely nothing."
"«[ 'm delighted to find you so much of my opinion I "
said I. " I cannot endure anything that leads to anarchy
and conftision,^^
Here Mr. Combermere glanced at his wife, — who rose,
called to the children, and, accompanied by them, grace-
fully withdrew.
" Now then," said Mr. Combermere, drawing his chair
nearer to me, — " now, Mr. Pelham, we can discuss these
matters. Women are no politicians," — and at this sage
aphorism, the Rev. Combermere laughed a low solemn
laugh, which could have come from no other lips. After
I had joined in this grave merriment for a secoftd or two,
I hemmed thrice, and with a countenance suited to the
subject and the host, plunged at once in medias res.
"Mr. St. Quintin," said I, "you are already aware, I
ADVENTURES 07 A GENTLEMAN. 22/
think, of my intention of offering myself as a candidate
for the borongh of Bnyemall. I conld not think of such a
measure, without calling upon you, the very, first person,
to solicit the honor of your vote." Mr. Comber mere
looked pleased, and prepared to reply. " You are the
rerj first person I called upon," repeated I.
Mr. Combermere smiled. "Well, Mr. Pelham," saia
he, ''our families have long been on the most intimate
footing."
" Ever since," cried I, " ever since Henry the Seventh's
time, have the houses of St. Quintin and Glenmorris been
allied ! Your ancestors, you know,, were settled in the
county before our's, and my mother assures me that she
has read, in some old book or another, a long, account of
your forefather's kind reception of mine at the castle of
St. Quintin. I do trust, sir, that we have done nothing to
forfeit a support so long afforded us."
Mr. St. Quintin bowed in speechless gratification ; at
length he found voice. " But your principles, Mr. Pel-
ham ? "
* " Quite your's, my dear sir : quite against anarchy and
confusion,^^
" But the Catholic question, Mr. Pelham ? "
" Oh I the Catholic question," repeated I, " is a question
of great importance ; it won't be carried — no, Mr. St
Quintin, no, it won't be carried ; how did you think, my
dear sir. that I could, in so great a question, act against
my conscience?"
I said this with warmth, and Mr. St. Quintin was either
828 pelham; ob,
too connDced or too timid to pursue so dangerous a topie
any further. I blessed my stars when he paused, and, not
giving him time to think of another piece of debatable
ground, continued, — " Yes, Mr. St. Quintin, I called upon
you the very first person. Your rank in the county, your
ancient birth, to^ be sure, demanded it ; but I only con*
sidered the long, long time the St. Quintins and Pelhams
had been connected."
" Well," said the Rev. Combermere, " well, Mr. Pelham,
you shall have my support; and I wish, from my very
heart, all success to a young gentleman of such excellent
principles."
CHAPTER XXXVI.
More Yoioes I
««««««
Sic, How now, my masters, have yon chosen him ?
CiU He has our yoioes, sir t — Coriolanut.
•
From Mr. Combermere St. Quintin's we went to a bluff,
hearty, radical wine-merchant, whom I had very little
probability of gaining; but my success with the clerical
Armado had inspirited me, and I did not suffer myself to
fear, though I could scarcely persuade myself to hope.
How exceedingly impossible it is, in governing men, to
lay down positive rules, even where we know the ^icmper
of the individual to be gained ! '' You must be very stiff
ADVENTUBSS OF A GENTLEMAN. 229
and formal with the St. Quintins," said my mother. She
was right in the general admonition, and had I found them
all seated in the best drawing-room, Mrs. St Quintin in
her best attire, and the children on their best behavior,
I should have been as stately as Don Quixote in a brocade
dressing-gown ; but finding them in such dishabille, I
could not affect too great a plainness and almost coarseness
of bearing, as if I had never been accustomed to anything
more refined than I found there ; nor might I, by any
appearance of pride in myself, put them in mind of the
wound their own pride had received. The diflSculty was
to blend with this familiarity a certain respect, just the
same as a French ambassador might have testified towards
the august person of George the Third, had he found his
Majesty at dinner at one o'clock, over mutton and turnips.
In overcoming this difficulty, I congratulated myself
with as much zeal and fervor as if I had performed the
most important victory ; for, whether it be innocent or
sanguinary, in war or at an election, there is no triumph
so gratifying to the viciousness of human nature, as the
conquest of our fellow beings.
But I must returii to my wine-merchant, Mr. Briggs.
His house was at the entrance of the town of Buyemall ;
it stood enclosed in a snail garden, flaming with crocuses
and sunflowers, and exhibiting an arbor to the right, where,
in the summer evenings, the respectable owner might be
seen, with his waistcoat unbuttoned, in order to give that
just and rational liberty to the subordinate parts of the
human commonwealth which the increase of their conse*
I.— 20
230 pelham; or,
qnence, after the hour of dinner, naturally demands. Nor,
in those moments of dignified ease, was the worthy burghef
without the divine inspirations of complacent contem-
plation which the weed of Virginia bestoweth. There,
as he smoked and puffed, and looked out upon the bright
crocuses, and meditated over the dim recollections of the
hesternal journal, did Mr. Briggs revolve in his mind the
vast importance of the borough of Buyemall to the British
empire, and the vast importance of John Briggs to the
borough of Buyemall.
When I knocked at the door a prettyish maid-seiVant
opened it with a smile, and a glance which the vendor of
wine might probably have taught her himself after too
large potations of his own spirituous manufactures. I was
ushered into a small parlor — where sat, sipping brandy
and water, a short, stout, monosyllabic sort of figure,
corresponding in outward shape to the name of Briggs
— even unto a very nicety.
'^Mr. Pelham," said this gentleman, who was dressed
in a brown" coat, white waistcoat, buff-colored' inex-
pressibles, with long strings, and gaiters of the same hue
and substance as the breeches — " Mr. Pelham, pray be
seated — excuse my rising, I 'm like the bishop in the story,
Mr. Pelham, too old to rise ; " and Mr. Briggs grunted
out a short, quick, querulous, "he — he — he," to which,
of course, I replied to the best of my cachinnatory powers.
No sooner, however, did I begin to laugh, than Mr.
Briggs stopped short — eyed me with a sharp, suspicious
glance — shook his head, and pushed back his chair at least
ADVENTURES OF A QENTLEMAN. 231
four feet from the spot it had hitherto occupied. Ominous
signs, thought I — I must sound this gentleman a little
further, before I venture to treat him as the rest of his
species.
** You have a nice situation here, Mr. Briggs," said L
" Ah, Mr. Pelham, and a nice vote too, which is some*
what more to your purpose, I believe."
" Why," said I, " Mr. Briggs, to be frank with you, I
do call upon you for the purpose of requesting your vote ;
give it me, or not, just as you please. You may be sure
I shall not make use of the vulgar electioneering arts to
coax gentlemen out of their votes. I ask you for your's as
one freeman solicits another : if yon think my opponent a
fitter person to represent your borough, give your support
to him in Heaven's name : if not, and you place confidence
in me, I will, at least, endeavor not to betray it."
" Well done, Mr. Pelham," exclaimed Mr. Briggs : " I
love candor — you speak just after my own heart; but
yon must be aware that one does not like to be bamboozled
out of one's right of election, by a smooth-tongued fellow,
who sends one to the devil the moment the election is over
i— or still worse, to he frightened out of it by some stiff-
necked proud coxcomb, with his pedigree in his hand, and
his acres in his face, thinking he does you a marvellous
honor to ask you at all. Sad times these for this free
country, Mr. Pelham, when a parcel of conceited paupers,
like Parson Quinny (as I call that reverend fool, Mr.
Combermere St. Quintin), imagine they have a right to
dictate to warm, honest men, who can buy their whole
232 pelham; ob,
family out and out. I tell you what, Mr. Pelham, we shall
never do anything for this country till we get rid of those
landed aristocrats, with their ancestry and humbug. I
hope you're of my mind, Mr. Pelham."
"Why," answered I, "there is certainly nothing so
respectable in Great Britain as our commercial interest
A man who makes himself is worth a thousand men made
by their forefathers."
" Very true, Mr. Pelham," said the wine-merchant, ad-
vancing his chair to me ; and then, laying a short, thickset
finger upon my arm — he looked up in my face with an
investigating air, and said : — " Parliamentary Reform — -
what do you say to that ? you 're not an advocate for an*
cient abuses and modern corruption, I hope, Mr.Pelham ? "
" By no means," cried I, with an honest air of indignation
— "I have a conscience, Mr. Briggs, I have a conscience
as a public man, no less than as a private one I "
" Admirable I " cried my host.
"No," I continued, glowing as I proceeded, "no, Mr
Briggs ; I disdain to talk too much about my principles
before they are tried ; the proper time to proclaim them
is when they have effected some good by being put into
action. I won't supplicate your vote, Mr. Briggs, as my
opponent may do ; there must be a mutual confidence be-
tween my supporters and myself. When I appear before
you a second time, you will have a right to see hew f&r I
have wronged that trust reposed in me as your repre-
sentative. Mr. Briggs, I dare say it may seem rude and
impolitic to address you in this manner ; but I am a plain,
ADVENTUBES OF A GENTLEMAN. 333
blant man, and I disdain the vulgar arts of electioneering,
Mr. Briggs."
" Give us your fist, sir," cried the wine-merchant, in a
transport ; " give us your fist ; I promise you my support,
and I am delighted to vote for a young gentleman of such
excellent principles,^^
So much, dear reader, for Mr. Briggs, who became from
that interview my staunchest supporter. I will not linger
longer upon this part of my career : the above conversations
may serve as a sufficient sample of my electioneering
qualifications : and so I shall merely add, that after the
due quantum of dining, drinking, spouting, lying, equivo-
cating, bribing, rioting, head-breaking, promise-breaking,
and — thank the god Mercury, who presides over elections
— chairing of successful candidateship, I found myself
foirly chosen member for the borough of Buyemall I *
* It 18 fortunate that Mr. Pelham's election was not for a rotten
borough ; so that the satire of this chapter is not yet obsolete nor
unsalutary. Parliamentary Reform has not terminated the tricks
of canvassing — and Mr. Pelham's descriptions are as applicable
now as when first written. All personal canvassing is but for the
convenience of cunning — the opportunity for manner to disguise
principle. Public meetings, in which expositions of opinion must
be clear, and will be cross-examined, are the only legitimate mode
of canvass. The English begin to discover this truth ; may theM
Boenes serve to quicken their apprehension* — The Author.
ao«
834 pxIiHAh; ob.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
Political e>iucation is like the keystone to the arch — the strengtn
of the whole depends upon it. — Encycl. BritU Sup. Art, Education.
I WAS sitting in the library of Glenmorris Castle, about a
week after all the bustle of contest and the ^cldt of victory
had begun to subside, and quietly dallying with the dry
toast, which constituted then, and does to this day, my
ordinary breakfast, when I was accosted by the following
speech, from my uncle: —
" Henry, your success has opened to you a new career :
I trust you intend to pursue it ? "
"Certainly," was my answer.
"But you know, my dear Henry, that though you have
great talents, which, I confess, I was surprised in the
course x)f the election to discover, yet they want that care-
ful cultivation, which, in order to shine in the House of
Commons, they must receive. Entre nous, Henry ; a little
reading would do you no harm."
"Very well," said I, "suppose I begin with Walter
Scott's novels ; I am told they are extremely entertaining,"
"True," answered my uncle, "but they don't contain
the most accurate notions of history, or the soundest prin-
ciples of political philosophy in the world. What did yon
think of doing to-day, Henry ? "
** Nothing/" said I, very innocently.
ADYENTUEES OF A GENTLEMAN. 235
" I should conceive that to be an usual answer of youra.
Henry, to any similar question."
" I think it is," replied I, with great naivete.
" Well, then, let us have the breakfast things taken away,
«nd do something this morning."
"Willingly," said I, ringing the bell.
The table was cleared, and my uncle began his exami-
nation. Little, poor man, had he thought, from my usual
bearing, and the character of my education, that in general
Literature there were few subjects on which I was not to
the full as well read as himself. I enjoyed his surprise,
when, little by little, he began to discover the extent of
my information ; but I was mortified to find it was only
surprise, not delight.
" You have," said he, " a considerable store of learning :
far more than I could possibly have imagined you possess-
ed ; but it is knowledge, not learning, in which I wish
you to be skilled. I would rather, in order to gift you
with the former, that you were more destitute of the latter.
The object of education is to instil principles which are
hereafter to guide and instruct ns', facts are only desirable,
80 far ap they illustrate those principles ; principles ought
therefore to precede facts I What then can we think of a
system which reverses this evident order, overloads the
memory with facts, and those of the most doubtful descrip-
tion, while it leaves us entirely in the dark with regard to
the principles which could alone render this heterogeneous
mass of any advantage or avail ? Learning, without
knowledge, is but a bundle of prejudices ; a lumber of inert
236 pelham; or,
natter set before the threshold of the understanding tc
the exclusion of common sense. Pause for a moment, and
recall those of your contemporaries who are generally
considered well-informed ; tell me if their information ha«
made them a whit the loiser ; if not, it is only sanctified
ignorance. Tell me if names with them are not a sanction
for opinion ; quotations, the representatives of axioms ?
All they have learned only serves as an excuse for all they
are ignorant of. In one month, I will engage that you
shall have a juster and deeper insight into wisdom, than
they have been all their lives acquiring ; the great error
of education is to fill the mind j^r8^ with antiquated authors,
and then to try the principles of the present day by'fhe
authorities and maxims of the past We will pursue, for
our plan, the exact reverse of the ordinary method. We
will learn the doctrines of the day, as the first and most
necessary step, and we will then glance over those which
have passed away, as researches rather curious than useful.
*' You see this very small pamphlet ; it is a paper by
Mr. Mill, upon Government. We will know this thorough-
ly, and when we have done so, we may rest assured that
we have a far more accurate information upon the head
and front of all political knowledge, than two-thirds of
the youug men whose cultivation of mind you have usually
heard panegyrized."
So saying, my uncle opened the pamphlet. He pointed
out to me its close and mathematical reasoning, in which
no flaw could be detected, nor deduction controverted ;
and he filled up, as we proceeded, from the science of hia
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 237
#
own clear and enlarged mind, the varionR parts which the
political logician had left for reflection to complete. My
uncle had this great virtue of an expositor ^ that he never
over-explained; he never made a parade of his lecture,
nor confused what was simple by unnecessary comment.
When we broke off our first day's employment, I was
quite astonished at the new light which had gleamed upon
me. I felt like Sinbad, the sailor, when, in wandering
through the cavern in which he had been buried alive, he
caught the first glimpse of the bright day. Naturally
eager in everything I undertook, fond of application, and
addicted to reflect over the various bearings of any object
that once engrossed my attention, I made great advance
in my new pursuit. After my uncle had brought me to
be thoroughly conversant with certain and definite prin-
ciples, we proceeded to illustrate them from fact. For
instance, when we had finished the ** Essay upon Govern-
ment,'' we examined into the several Constitutions of
England, British America, and France ; the three countries
which pretend the most to excellence in their government :
and we were enabled to perceive and judge the defects and
merits of each, because we had, previously to our exami-
nation, established certain rules, by which they were to be
investigated and tried. Here my skeptical indifference to
facts was my chief reason for readily admitting knowledge.
I had no prejudices to contend with ; no obscure notions
gleaned from the past ; no popular maxims cherished as
truths. Everything was placed before me as before a
wholly impartial inquirer — freed from all the decorations
238 PELHAM; OR,
and de\asions of sects and parties : every argament was
stated with logical precision — every opinion referred to
a logical test. Hence, in a very short time, I owned the
justice of my uncle's assurance, as to the comparative
concentration of knowledge. We went over the whole of
MilPs admirable articles in the Encyclopaedia, over the
more popular works of Bentham, and thence we plunged
into the recesses of political economy. I know not why
this study has been termed uninteresting. No sooner had
I entered upon its consideration, than I could scarcely
tear myself from it. Never from that moment to this have
I ceased to pay it the most constant attention, not so much
as a study as an amusement ; but at that time my uncle's
object was not to make me a profound political economist.
" I wish," said he, " merely to give you an acquaintance
with the principles of the science ; not that you may be
entitled to boast of knowledge, but that you may be ena-
bled to avoid ignorance ; not that you may discover truth,
but that you may detect error. Of all sciences, political
economy is contained in the fewest books, and yet is the
most diMcult to master ; because all its higher branches
require earnestness of reflection, proportioned to the scan-
tiness of reading. Ricardo's work, together with some
conversational enlargement on the several topics he treats
of, will be enough for our present purpose. I wish, then,
to show you, how inseparably allied is the greal science
of public policy with that of private morality. And this,
Henry, is the grandest obiect of all. Now to oxir present
study."
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 239
Well, gentle reader, (I love, by-the-by, as you already
perceive, that old-fashioned courtesy of addressing you) —
well, to finish this part of my life, which, as it treats rather
of my attempts at reformation than my success in error,
must begin to weary you exceedingly, I acquired more
from my uncle's conversation than the books we read> a
sufficient acquaintance with the elements of knowledge, to
satisfy myself, and to please my instructor. And I must
say, in justification of my studies and my tutor, that I
derived one benefit from them which has continued with
me to this hour — viz., I obtained a clear knowledge of
moral principle. Before that time, the little ability I
possessed only led me into acts, which, I fear, most be-
nevolent reader, thou hast already sufficiently condemned ;
my good feelings — for I was not naturally bad — never
availed me the least when present temptation came into
my way. I had no guide but passion ; no rule but the
impulse of tl|e moment. What else could have been the
result of my education ? If I was immoral, it was because
I was never taught morality. Nothing, perhaps, is less
innate than virtue. I own that the lessons of my uncle
did not work miracles — that, living in the world, I have
not separated myself from its errors and its follies : the
vortex was too strong — the atmosphere too contagious :
but I have at least avoided the crimes into which my
temper would most likely have driven me. I ceased to
look upon the world as a game one was to play fairly, if
possible — but. where a little cheating was readily allowed ;
1 no longer divorced the interests of other men from my
840 pelham; or,
own : if I endeavored to blind them, it was neither by
nnlawfal means, nor for a purely selfish end: — if — but
come, Henry Pelham, thou hast praised thyself enough for
the present ; and, after all, thy future adventures will best
tell if thou art really amended.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
Mihi jam non regis Boma,
Sed Tacnum Tibur placet. — Hob.
•' My dear child," said my mother to me, affectionately,
'* you must be very much bored here. To Say truth, I am
so my&elf. Your uncle is a very good man, but he does
not make his house pleasant ; and I have, lately, been very
much atraid that he should convert you into a mere book-
worm; after all, my dear Henry, you are quite clevei
enough \o trust to your own ability. Your great geniuses
nev^r read."
" True, my dear mother," said I, with a most unequivocal
yawn, and depositing on the table Mr. Bentham on Popular
Fallacies ; '' true, and I am quite of your opinion. Did
you see in the Post of this morning, how full Cheltenham
was ? "
" Yes, Henry ; and now you mention it, I don't think
you could do better than to go there for a month or two
Ah fi>r me, I must return to your father, whom I left a;
ADVENTURES OF A QBNTLEMAN. 241
Ijord H ^'s: a place, entre notiSf very little more
amasing than this — but then one does get one's icarU
table, and that dear Lady Koseville, your old acquaint-
ance, is staying there."
"Well," said I, musingly, "suppose we take our de-
parture the beginning of next week f — our way will be
the same as far as London^ and the plea of attending you
will be a good excuse to my uncle for proceeding no
/arther in these confounded books."
" G'est une affaire Jinie" replied my mother, " and I
will speak to your uncle myself."
Accordingly, the necessary disclosure of our intentions
was made. Lord Glenmorris received it with proper
indifference, so far as my mother was concerned ; but
expressed much pain at my leaving him so soon. However,
when he found I was not so much gratified as honored by
bis wishes for my longer s^jour, he gave up the point with
a delicacy that enchanted me.
The morning of our departure arrived. Carriage at the
door — bandboxes in the passage — breakfast on the table
— myself in my great coat — my uncle in his great chair.
" My dear boy," said he, " I trust we shall meet again soon :
you have abilities that may make you capable of effecting
much good to your fellow-creatures ; but you are fond of
the world, and, though not averse to application, devoted
to pleasure, and likely to pervert the gifts you possess. At
all events, you have now learned, both as a public character
and a private individual, the difference between good and
evil. Make but this distinction : that whereas, in political
L — 21 Q -
242 PELHAM; OB,
science, the rules you have learned may be fixed and uner-
ring, yet the application of them must vary with time and
circumstance. We must bend, temporize, and frequently
withdraw, doctrines which invariable in their truth, the
prejudices of the time will not invariably allow, and even
relinquish a faint hope of obtaining a great good, for the
certainty of obtaining a lesser ; yet in the science of private
morals, which relate for the main part to ourselves indi^
vidually, we have no right to deviate one single iota from
the rule of our conduct. Neither time nor circumstance
must cause us to modify or to change. Integrity knows
no variation ; honesty no shadow of turning. We must
pursue the same course — stern and uncompromising — in
the full persuasion that the path of right is like the bridge
from earth to heaven, in the Mahometan creed ; — if we
swerve but a single hair's-breath, we are irrevocably lost."
At this moment my mother joined us, with a "Well, my
dear Henry, everything is ready — we have no time to lose."
My uncle rose, pressed my hand, and left in it a pocket-
book, which I afterwards discovered to be most satisfac-
torily furnished. We took an edifying and afi^ectionat^
farewell of each other, pa:!ssed through the two rows of
servants, drawn up in martial array, along the great hall,
and I entered the carriage, and went off^ with the rapidity
of a novel upon " fashionable life."
ABTXNItTfiXS OV A aXMTLXHAH. 248
CHAPTER XXXIX.
Dio — si graye non est —
Qu» prima iratum yentrem placayerit esca. — Hob.
I DID not remain above a day or two in town. I had
never seen much of the hnmors of a watering-place, and
my love of observing character made me exceedingly im-
patient for that pleasure. Accordingly, the first bright
morning, I set off for Cheltenham. I was greatly struck
with the entrance to that town : it is to these watering-
places that a foreigner should be taken, in order to give
him an adequate idea of the magnificent opulence and
universal luxury of England. Our country has, in every
province, what France only has in Paris — a capital,
consecrated to gaiety, idleness, and enjoyment. London
is both too busy in one class of society, and too pompous
in another, to please a foreigner, who has not excellent
recommendations to private circles. But at Brighton,
Cheltenham, Hastings, Bath, he may, as at Paris, find all
the gaieties of society without knowing a single individual
My carriage stopped at the Hotel. A corpulent
and stately waiter, with gold buckles to a pair of very tight
pantaloons, showed me up stairs. I found myself in a
tolerable room facing the street, and_ garnished with two
pictures of rocks and rivers, with a comely flight of crows,
944 felham; ob,
hovering in the horizon of both, as natural as possible —
only they were a little larger than the trees. Over the
chimney-piece, where I had fondly hoped to find a looking-
glass, was a grave print of General Washington, with ono
hand stack out'like the spont of a tea-pot. Between the
two windows (unfavorable position I) was an oblong mirror,
to which I immediately hastened, and had the pleasure of
seeing my complexion catch the color of the curtains that
overhung the glass on each side, and exhibit the pleasing
rurality of a pale green.
I shrunk back aghast, turned, and beheld the waiter.
Had I seen myself in a glass delicately shaded by rose-hued
curtains, I should gently and smilingly have said, " Have
the goodness to bring me the bill of fare." As it was, I
growled put, "Bring me the bill."
The stiff waiter bowed solemnly, and withdrew slowly.
I looked round the room once more, and discovered the
additional adornments of a tea-urn, and a book. " Thank
Heaven," thought I, as I took up the latter, "it can't be
one of Jeremy Bentham's." No I it was the Cheltenham
Guide. I turned to the head of amusements — "Dress
ball at the rooms every "some day or other — which
of the seven I utterly forget; but it was the same as
that which witnessed my first arrival in the small drawing-
room of the Hotel.
" Thank Heaven I " said I to myself, as Bedos entered
with my things, and was ordered immediately to have all
in preparation for " the dress-ball at the rooms," at the
hour of half-past ten. The waiter entered with the bill
ADVENTURES Of A OENTL1.MAN. ^45
** Sonps, chops, cntletSy steaks, roast joints, &c., &c.^
lion, birds."
" Get some sonp," said I, ** a slice or two of lion^ and
half a dozen birds."
"Sir," said the solemn waiter, "yon can't have less
than a whole lion, and we haye only two birds in the house.''
" Pray," asked I, " are you in the habit of supplying
your larder from Exeter 'Change, or do you breed lions
here like poultry?"
" Sir," answered the grim waiter, never relaxing into a
smile, ** we haye lions brought us from the country «^ery
day,"
"What do you pay for them?" said I.
"About three and sipence a-piece, sir."
" Humph ! market in Africa overstocked," thought I.
" Pray, how do you dress an animal of tbatdescriptidA f "
" Boast and stuff him, sir, and serve him up with ci n<*ant
jelly."
. " What I like a hare ! "
"A lion is a hare, sir."
"What I" •
" Tes, sir, it is a hare I — but we call it a lion, because
of the Qame laws."
"Bright discovery," thought I; "they have a nenr
language in Cheltenham ; nothing's like travelling s
enlarge the mind." "And the birds," said I, aloud, " 9 )
neither humming-birds, nor ostriches, I suppose?"
"No, sir; they are partridges."
21*
24A felham; or,
" Well, then, give me some soap, a cutlet, and a ' bird/
as you term it, and be quick about it."
" It shall be done with despatch," answered the pompous
attendant, and withdrew.
Is there, in the whole course of this pleasant and varying
life, which young gentlemen and ladies write verses to
prove same and sorrowful, — is there in the whole course of
it, one half-hour really and genuinely disagreeable ? — if so,
it is the half-hour before dinner at a strange inn. Neverthe-
less, by the help of philosophy and the window, I managed
to endure it with great patience : and, though I was famish-
ing with hunger, I pretended the indifference of a sage, even
when the dinner was at length announced. I coquetted a
whole minute with my napkin, before I attempted the soup,
and I helped myself to the potatory food with a slow
dignity that must have perfectly won the heart of the
solemn waiter. The soup was a little better than hot wa-
ter, and the sharp-sauced cutlet than leather and vinegar ;
howbeit, I attacked them with the vigorof an Irishman,
and washed them down with a bottle of the worst liquor
ever dignified with the venerdbile nomen Of claret. The
bird was tough enough to have passed for an ostrich in
miniature ; and I felt its ghost hopping about the stomachic
sepulchre to which I consigned it, the whole of that even-
ing, and a great portion of the next day, when a glass of
cura^oa laid it at rest.
After this splendid repast, I flung myself back on my
chair with the complacency of a man who has dined well,
and dozed away the time till the hour of dressing.
ABVENTTTBES OF A GENTLEMAN. 241
"Now," thought I, as I placed myself before my glass,
" shall I gently please, or sablimely astonish the ' fash-
ionables ' of Cheltenham ? — Ah, bah ! the latter school is
vulgar, Byron spoilt it. Don't put out that chain, Bedos
— I wear — the black coat, waistcoat, and trowsers. Brush
my hair as much out of curl as you can, and give an air
of graceful negligence to my toiU ensemble.^^
" Oui, Monsieur, je comprends,^^ answered Bedos.
I was soon dressed, for it is the design, not the execviion,
of all great undertakings which requires deliberation and
delay. Action cannot be too prompt. A chair was called
and Henry Pelham was conveyed to the rooms.
CHAPTER XL.
Now see, prepared to lead the sprightly dance.
The lovely nymphs, and well-dress'd youths advance ;
The spacious room receives its jovial guest,
And the floor shakes with pleasing weight oppress*d.
Art of Dancing,
Page. His name, my lord, is Tyrrell. — Richard IIL
Upon entering, I saw several heads rising and sinking,
to the tune of " Cherry ripe." A whole row of stiff necks,
iu cravats of the most unexceptionable length and breadth,
were just before me. A tall thin young man, with dark
wiry hair brushed on one side, was drawing on a pair of
white Woodstock gloves, and affecting to look round th«
room with the supreme indifference of hon ton.
248 PEL ham; OB,
"Aby BitsoD,'' said another jonng Cheltenhamian to
him of the Woodstock gauntlets, "hav'n't you been danc-
ing yet?^'
" No, Smith, 'pon honor I " answered Mr. Ritson ; " it
is so overpoweringly hot ; no fashionable man dances now ;
— it isn't the thing."
" Why," replied Mr. Smith, who was a good-natured
looking person, with a blue coat and brass buttons, and a
gold pin in his neckcloth, '' why, they dance at Almack's,
don't they ? "
" No, 'pon honor," murmured Mr. Ritson ; "no, they
just walk a quadrille or spin a waltz, as my friend. Lord
Bobadob, calls it; nothing more — no, hang dancing, 'tis
80 vulgar."
A stout, red-faced man, about thirty, with wet auburn
hair, a marvellously fine waistcoat, and a badly washed frill,
now joined Messrs. Ritson and Smith.
''Ah, Sir Ralph," cried Smith, " how d'ye do ? been
hunting all day, I suppose ? "
"Yes, old cock," replied Sir Ralph; "been after the
brush till I am quite done up ; such a glorious run I By
G — f you should have seen my grey mare, Smith ; by G — ,
she^s a glorious fencer."
" You don't hunt, do you, Ritson ? " interrogated Mr.
Smith.
"Yes, I do," replied Mr. Ritson, affectedly playing with
his Woodstock glove ; " yes, but I only hunt in Leicester-
shire with my friend. Lord Bobadob ; 'tis not the thing to
hunt anywhere else."
ADVENTURES OT A GENTLEMAN. 24S
Sir Ralph stared at the speaker with mate contempt:
while Mr. Smith, like the ass between the hay, stooa
balancing betwizt the opposing merits of the baronet and
the beau. Meanwhile, a smiling, nodding, afifected female
.thing, in ringlets and flowers, flirted up to the trio.
" Now, really, Mr. Smith, you should deence ; a feeshion*
able young man, like yon — I don't know what the young
leedies will say to you." And the fair seducer laughed
bewitchingly.
" You are very good, Mrs. DoUimore," replied Mr
Smith, with a blush and a low bow ; " but Mr. Ritson tells
me it is not the thing to dance."
"Oh," cried Mrs. Dollimore, "but then he's seech a
naughty, conceited creature — don't follow his example,
Meester Smith ; " and again the good lady laughed im-
moderately.
" Nay, Mrs. Dollimore," said Mr. Ritson, passing his
hand through his abominable hair, ** you are too severe ;
but tell me, Mrs. Dollimore, is the Countess coming
here ? "
"Now, reelly, Mr. Ritson, t/ou, who are the pink of
feeshion, ought to know better than I can ; but I hear so."
"Do you know the countess?" said Mr. Smith, in
respectful surprise, to Ritson.
" Oh, very well," replied the Coryphaeus of Cheltenham,
swinging his Woodstock glove to and fro ; " I have often
danced with her at Almack's."
" Is she a good deencer ? " asked Mrs. Dollimore.
850 pelham; or,
** 0, capital," responded Mr. Bitaon ; '' she's snch a
nice geateel little figure."
Sir Ralph, apparently tired of this ** feeshionable " con-
versation, swaggered away.
"Pray," said Mrs. Dollimore, "who is that geentle-.
man ? "
"Sir Ralph Rumford," replied Smith, eagerly, "a
particular friend of mine at Cambridge."
" I wonder if he's going to make a long steey f " said
Mrs. Dollimore.
" Yes, I believe so," replied Mr. Smith, *'if we make it
agreeable to him."
" You must pdositively introduce him to me," said Mrs.
Dollimore.
" I will, with great pleasure," said the good-natured
Mr. Smith.
" Is Sir Ralph a man of fashion f " inquired Mr. Ritsoii.
" He's a baronet I " emphatically pronounced Mr.
^rnith.
"Ah I " replied Ritson, " but he may be a man of rank,
without being a man of fashion."
" True," lisped Mrs. Dollimore.
" I don't know," replied Smith, with an air of puzzled
wonderment, "but he has 7,000Z. a-year."
" Has he, indeed f " cried Mrs. Dollimore, surprised
into her natural tone of voice ; and, at that moment, a
young lady, ringleted and flowered like herself, joined
her, and accosted her by the endearing appellation of
" Mamma."
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 251
" Have you been dancing, my love ? " inquired Mrs.
DoUimore.
"Yes, ma; with Captain Johnson."
" Oh," said the mother, with a toss of her head ; and,
giving her daughter a significant push, she walked awa,^
with her to another end of the room, to talk about Sir
Ralph Rnmford, and his seven thousand pounds a-jear.
" Well I " thought I, " odd people these ; let us enter a
little farther into this savage country." In accordance
with this reflection, I proceeded towards the middle of the
room.
" Who's that ? " said Mr. Smith, in a loud whisper as
I passed him.
" Ton honor," answered Ritson, " I don't know I but
e's a deuced neat-looking fellow."
" Thank you, Mr. Ritson," said my vanity ; " you are-
not so offensive, after all."
I paused to look at the dancers ; a middle-aged, re-
spectable-looking gentleman was beside me. Common
people, after they have passed forty, grow social. My
neighbor hemmed twice, and made preparation for speak-
ing. " I may as well encourage him," was my reflection ;
accordingly I turned round, with a most good-natured
expression of countenance.
"A^ne room this, sir," said the man immediately.
" Very," said I, with a smile, " and extremely well filled. "
"Ah, sir," answered my neighbor, " Cheltenham is not
AS it used to be some fifteen years ago. I have seen as
many as one thousand two hundred and fifty persons withio
252 pelham; ob,
these walls " (certain people are always so d d par*
ticularizing) ; " ay, sir," pursued my laudator t^mporiB
actif *'and half the peerage here into the bargain."
" Indeed I " quoth I, with an air of surprise suited to
the information I received, " but the society is very good
still, is it not ? "
"Oh, YSTj genteelj^^ replied the man; "but not so
dashing as it used to be." (Oh ! those two horrid words I
low enough to suit even the author of " .")
" Pray," asked I, glancing at Messrs. Rftson and Smith,
" do you know who those gentlemen are ? "
'* Extremely well 1 " replied my neighbor ; " the tall
young man is Mr. Kitson ; his mother has a house in
3aker-street, and gives quite elegant parties. He's a most
genteel young man ; but such an insufiferable coxcomb."
- "And the other ? " said I.
" Oh I he's a Mr. Smith ; his father was an eminent
brewer, and is lately dead, leaving each of his sons thirty
thousand pounds ; the young Smith is a knovring hand,
and wants to spend his money with spirit. He has a great
passion for *high,lif^i^ and therefore attaches himself much
to Mr. Ritson, who is quite thai way inclined.*^
" He could not have selected a better model," said I.
" True," rejoined my Cheltenham Asmodeus, with naive
simplicity ; " but I hope he won't adopt his conceit as well
as his elegance,"
"I shall die," said I to myself, 'Mf I talk with this
fellow any longer," and I was just going to glide away,
when a tall, stately dowager, with two lean, scraggy
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 253
daughters, entered the room ; I coald not resist pausing
to inquire who they were.
My friend looked at me with a very altered and disre«
spectfal air at this interrogation. " Who ? " said he, " why
the Countess of Babbleton and her two daughters, the
Ilonorable Lady Jane Babel, and the Honorable Lady
Mary Babel. They are the great people of Cheltenham,'*
pursued he, " and it's a fine thing to get into their set "
Meanwhile Lady Babbleton and her two daughters
swept up the room, bowing and nodding to the riven ranks
on each side, who made their salutations with the most
profound respect. My experienced eye detected in a
moment that Lady Babbleton, in spite of her title and her
sttiteliness, was exceedingly the reverse of good ton, and
the daughters (who did not resemble the scrag of mutton,
but Us ghost) had an appearance of sour affability, which
wa* . as different from the manners of proper society as it
possibly could be.
I wondered greatly who and what they were. In the
eye9 of the Cheltenhamians, they were the countess and
her daughters ; and any further explanation would have
been deemed quite superfluous ; further explanation I was,
however, determined to procure, and was walking across
the room in profound meditation as to the method in which
the discovery should be made, when I was startled by the
voice of Sir Lionel Garrett : I turned round, and to my
Ttteipressible joy, beheld that worthy baronet.
''Bless me, Pelham,'' said he, ** how delighted I am to
1—22
254 pelham; or,
Bee you. Lady Harriet, here's your old favorite, Mp-
Pelham."
Lady Harriet was all smiles and pleasure. " Give me
your arm," said she : "1 must go and speak to Lady
Babbleton — odious woman 1 "
" Do, my dear Lady Harriet," said I, " explain to me
what Lady^'BabWeton was."
" Why — she was a milliner, and took in the late lord,
who was an idiot. — Voild tout I "
"Perfectly satisfactory," replied L
'* Or, short and sweet, as Lady Babbleton would say,"
replied Lady Harriet, laughing.
"In antithesis to her daughters, who are long and sour."
" Oh, you satirist I " said the affected Lady Harriet
(who was only three removes better than the Cheltenham
countess) ; " but tell me, how long have you been at
Cheltenham ? "
"About four hours and a half ! "
" Then you don't know any of the lions here f "
" None, except (I added to myself) the lion I had for
dinner."
"Well, let me despatch Lady Babbleton, and I'll then
devote myself to being your nomenclator. "
We walked up to Lady Babbleton, who had already
disposed of her daughters, and was sitting in solitary
dignity at the end of the room.
" My dear Lady Babbleton," cried Lady Harriet, taking
botji the hands of the dowager, "I am so glad to see
you, and how well you are looking ; and your charming
ADYENTUBE8 OF A GENTLEMAN. 255
daaghters, how are they ? — sweet girls I — and how long
have you been here?"
" We have only just come," replied the ci-devant milliner,
half rising, and rustling her plumes in stately agitation,
like a nervous parrot ; " we must conform to modern ours.
Lady ArrieU^ though, for my part, J like the old-fashioned
plan of dining early, and finishing one's gaieties before
midnight ; but I set the fashion of good ours as well as
I can. I think it's a duty we owe to society. Lady Arriett,
to encourage morality by our own example. What else do
we have rank for ? " And, so saying, the counter countess
drew herself up with a most edifying air of moral dignity.
Lady Harriet looked at me, and perceiving that my eye
said " go on," as plainly as eye could possibly speak, she
continued — ** Which of the wells do you attend. Lady
Babbleton ? "
"All," replied the patronizing dowager. "I like to
encourage the poor people here ; I've no notion of being
proud because one has a title. Lady Arriett,^^
**No," rejoined the worthy helpmate of Sir Lionel
Garrett ; " everybody talks of your condescension, Lady
Babbleton ; but are you not afraid of letting yourself down
by going everywhere ? "
•' Oh," answered the countess^ " I admit very few into
my set cU home, but I go out promiscuously ; " and then,
looking at me, she said, in a whisper, to Lady Harriet,
" who is that nice young gentleman ? "
* Mr. Pelham," replied Lady Harriet ; and, turning to
me, formally introduced us to each other.
256 PEL ham; ob,
''Are yon any relation (asked the dowager) to Lady
Frances Pelham f "
"Only her son," said I.
" Dear me," replied Lady Babbletonj^ " how odd ; what
a nice elegant woman she is I She does not go mnch oot|
does she? I don't often meet her."
** I should not think it likely that yonr ladyship did meet
her much. She does not Yiait promiscuously."
" Every rank has its duty," said Lady Harriet, gravely ;
** your mother, Mr. Pelham, may confine her circle as much
as she pleases ; but the high rank of Lady Babbleton re-
quires greater condescension ; just as the Dukes of Sussex
and Gloucester go to many places where yon and I would
not."
" Very true 1 " said the innocent dowager ; " and that's
a very sensible remark I Were you at Bath last winter,
Mr. Pelham ? " continued the countess, whose thoughts
wandered from subject to subject in the most rudderless
manner.
" No, Lady Babbleton, I was unfortunately at a less
distinguished place."
" What was that ? "
" Paris I "
" Oh, indeed I I've never been abroad ; I don't think per-
sons of a certain rank should leave England ; they should
stay at home and encourage their own manufactories."
''Ah I " cried I, taking hold of Lady Babbleton's shawl,
" what a pretty Manchester pattern this is,"
** Manchester pattern I " exclaimed the petrified peer^
ADYENTUBEB OF A GENTLEMAN. 351
ess ; " why it is real cachemire : you don't think I wear
Anything English, Mr. Pelham ? "
** I beg your ladyship ten thousand pardons, I am no
judge of dress ; but to return — I am quite of your opinion,
that we ought to encourage our own manufactories, and
not go abroad : but one cannot stay long on the Continent,
e?en if one is decoyed there. One soon longs for home
again."
" Very sensibly remarked," rejoined Lady Babbleton ;
"that's what I call true patriotism and morality. I wish
all the young men of the present day were like you. Oh,
dear ! — here's a great favorite of mine coming this way
— Mr. Bitson I — do you know him ? shall I introduce
you ? "
" Heaven forbid I " exclaimed I — frightened out of my
wits, and my manners. ''Come, Lady Harriet, let us
rejoin Sir Lionel ; " and, ' swift at the word,' Lady Harriet
retook my arm, nodded her adieu to Lady Babbleton, and
withdrew with me to an obscurer part of the room.
Here we gave way to our laughter for some time — " Is
it possible," exclaimed I, starting up — ''Can that be
Tyrrell ? "
" What's the matter with the man f " cried Lady Harriet.
I quickly recovered my presence of mind, and reseated
myself: " Pray forgive me. Lady Harriet," said I ; " but
I think, liay, I am sure, I see a person I once met under
very particular circumstances. Do you observe that dark
man in deep mourning, who has just entered the room, and
is now speaking to Sir Ralph Bumford ? "
22* R
U8 pelham; ob,
** I do : it is Sir John Tyrrell I " replied Lady Harriet:
•* he only came to Cheltenham yesterday. His is a very
Bingalar. history. '^
"What is it?" said I, eagerly.
" Why I he was the only son of a younger branch of the
Tyrrells ; a very old family, as the name denotes. He was
a great deal in a certain rou6 set, for some years, and was
celebrated for his gallantries. His fortune was, however,
perfectly unable to satisfy his expenses ; he took to gam-
bling, and lost the remains of his property. He went
abroad, and used to be seen at the low gambling-houses
at Paris, earning a very degraded and precarious subsist-
ence ; till, about three months ago, two persons, who stood
between him and the title and estates of the family, died,
and most unexpectedly he succeeded to both. They say
that he was found in the most utter penury and distress, in
a small cellar at Paris ; however that may be, he is now Sir
John Tyrrell, with a very large income, and, in spite of a
certain coarseness of manner, probably acquired by the low
company he latterly kept, he is very much liked and even
admired, by the few good people in the society of Chel-
tenham."
At this instant Tyrrell passed us ; he caught my eye
stopped short, and colored violently. I bowed ; he seemed
unde'!ided for a moment as to the course he should adopt ;
it was but for a moment. He returned my salutation with
great appearance of cordiality ; shook me warmly by the
hand ; expressed himself delighted to meet me ; inquired
where I was staying, and said he should certainly cp?' >
. !
ADYENTURXS OF A GENTLEMAN. 259
me. With this promise he glided on, and was soon lost
among the crowd.
•* Where did you meet him ? " said Lady Harriet
"At Paris."
" What I was he in decent society there ? ''
" I don't know," said I. " Good night. Lady Harriet^ •*
and with an air of extreme lassitude, I took my hat, and
vanished from that motley mixture of the fashiondbly low
and the vulgarly genteel/
CHAPTER XLI.
Full many a lady
I haye eyed with best regard, and many a time
The harmony of their tongues hath unto bondage
Drawn my too diligent eyes.
But you, oh I you,
So perfect and so peerless, are create
Of every creature's best. — Shakspbabb
Thou wilt easily conceive, my dear reader, who hast
been in my confidence throughout the whole of this history,
and whom, though as yet thou hast cause to esteem me
but lightly, I already love as my familiar and my friend
— thou wilt easily conceive my surprise at meeting so unex-
pectedly with my old hero of the gambling-house. I felt
indeed perfectly stunned at the shock of so singular a
ehange in his circumstances since I had last met him. My
Uioughts reverted immediately to that scene, and to the
260 pelham; or,
mysterions connection between Tyrrell and Qlanyille. How
would the latter receive the intelligence of his enemy's
good fortune ? was his vengeance yet satisfied, or through
what means could it now find vent f
A thousand thoughts similar to these occupied and dis-
tracted my attention till morning, when I summoned Bedofl
into the room to read me to sleep. He opened a play of
Monsieur Delavigne's, and at the beginning of the second
scene I was in the land of dreams.
I woke about two o'clock ; dressed, sipped my chocolate,
and was on the point of arranging my hat to the best
advantage, when I received the following note : —
" My dear Pelham,
" Me tibi commendo. I heard this morning, at your
hotel, that you were here ; my heart was a house of joy at
the intelligence. I called upon you two hours ago ; but»
like Antony, 'you revel long o' nights.' Ah, that I could
add with Shakspeare, that you were * notwithstanding tip.'
I have just come from Pari^, that umbilicus terrce, and
my adventures since I saw you, for your private satisfaction,
* because I love you I will let you know ; ' but you must
satisfy me with a meeting. Till you do, ' the mighty god&
defend you I '
"Vincent."
The hotel Arom which Yincent dated this epistle, was in
the same street as my own caravanserai, and to this hotel
I immediately set off. I found my friend sitting before a
huge folio, which he in vain endeavored to persuade m%
ADYENTURKS OF A QKNTLl&MAN. 261
that he serioaslj intended to read. We greeted each other
with the greatest cordiality.
"But how," said Vincent, after the first warmth of
welcome had subsided, " how shall J congratulate you upon
your new honors ? I was not prepared to find you grown
from a rou6 into a senator.
*In gathering Totes jovl were not slaok,
Now stand as tightly bj jour tack,
Ne'er show jour lug an' fidge your back.
An' hum an' haw;
Bat raise jovr arm, an' tell your crack
Before them a'.'
So saith Burns ; advice which, being interpreted, meaneth*
that you must astonish the rats of St. Stephen's."
*' Alas I " said I, " all one's clap-traps in that house
must be baited."
** Nay, but a rat bites at any cheese, from Oloncester to
Parmesan, and you can easily scrape up a bit of some sort
Talking of the House, do you see, by the paper, that the
civic senator. Alderman W , is at Cheltenham ? "
"I was not aware of it.' I suppose he's cramming
speeches and turtle for the next season."
" How wonderfully," said Vincent, " your city dignities
unloose the tongue I directly a man has been a mayor, he
thinks himself qualified for a Tully at least. Faith, the
Lord Mayor asked me one day, what was the Latin for
spouting ? and I told him, * hippomaneSf or a raging humo*
in mayors J ^^
After I had paid, through the medium of my risible
muscles, due homage to this witticism of Vincent's, he
362 % pj^lham; or,
flhDt np his folio, called for his hat, and we sauntered dowa
into the street.
" When do you go up to town ? " asked Vincent.
" Not till my senatorial duties require me.*'
" Do you stay here till then ? "
"As it pleases the gods. But, good heavens I Vincent,
what a beautiful girl!"
Vincent turned. " 0 Dea certd,^^ murmured he, and
stopped.
• The object of our exclamations was standing by a comer
shop, apparently waiting for some one within. Her face
at the moment I first saw her, was turned full towards me.
Never had I seen any countenance half so lovely. She
was apparently about twenty ; her hair was of the richest
chestnut, and a golden light played through its darkness,
as if a sunbeam had been caught in those luxuriant tresses,
and was striving in vain to escape. Her eyes were of light
bazel, large, deep, and shaded into softness (to use a
modern expression) by long and very dark lashes. Her
complexion alone would have rendered her beautiful, it
was so clear — so pure ; the blood blushed beneath it, like
roses under a clear stream ; if, in order to justify my simile,
roses would have the complacency to grow in such a situa-
tion. Her nose was of that fine and accurate mould that
one so seldom sees, except in the Grecian statues, which
unites the clearest and most decided outline with the most
feminine delicacy and softness : and the short curved arch
which descended from thence to her mouth, was so fine —
80 airily and exquisitely formed, that it seemed as if Lov9
ADYENTUBES OF A GENTLEMAN. 263
himself had modelled the bridge which led to his most
beaatifal and fragrant island. On the right side of the
month was one dimple, which corresponded so exactly with
every smile and movement of those rosy lips, that you
might have sworn the shadow of each passed there ; it was
like the rapid changes of an April heaven reflected upon
a valley. She was somewhat, but not much, taller than
the ordinary height ; and her figure, which united all the
first freshness and youth of the girl with the more luxuriant
graces of the woman, was rounded and finished so justly,
that the eye could glance over the whole, without discover-
ing the least harshness or unevenness, or atom to be added
or subtracted. But over all these was a light, a glow, a
pervading spirit, of which it is impossible to convey the
faintest idea. You should have seen her by the side of a
shaded fountain on a summer's day. You should have
watched her amidst music and flowers, and she might have
seemed to yon like the fairy that presided over both. So
much for poetical description — it is not my forte !
" What think you of her, Yincent ? " said I.
" I say, with Theocritus, in his epithalamium of Helen
" Say no such thing,'' said I ; "I will not have her
presence profaned by any helps from your memory."
At that moment the girl turned round abruptly, and re<
entered the statiener's shop, at the door of which she had
been standing.
'' Let us enter,^' said Vincent : ** I want some sealing*
wax''
2M pelham; or,
I desired no second invitation : we marched into the
shop. My Armida was leaning on the arm of an old lady.
She blushed deeply when she saw us enter ; and, as ill-luck
would have it, the old lady concluded her purchases the
moment after, and they withdrew.
'<*Who had thought this clime had held
A deity so unparalleVd I * "
justly observed my companion.
I made no reply. All the remainder of that day I was
absent and reserved ; and Vincent, perceiving that I no
longer laughed at his jokes, nor smiled at his quotations,
told me I was sadly changed for the worse, and pretended
an engagement, to rid himself of an auditor so obtuse.
CHAPTER XLII.
Tout notre mal yient de ne pouvoir 4tre seuls ; de 1& le jeu, le luxe,
la dissipation^ le vin, les femmes, rignorance, la m^disance, PeiiTie,
I'oubli de soi-mSme et de Dieu.
La Bbuterb.
The next day I resolved to call upon Tyrrell, seeing
that he had not yet kept his promise of anticipating me,
and being very desirous not to lose any opportunity of
improving my acquaintance with him ; accordingly, I sent
my valet to make inquiries as to his abode. I found that
he lodged in the same hotel as myself; and having pre-
viously ascertained that he was at home, I was ushered
by the head-waiter into the gamester's apartment
ADVENTURES OP A GENTLEMAN. 265
He was sitting by the fire in a listless, yet thoughtful
attitude. His muscular and rather handsome person was
indued in a dressing-gown of rich brocade, thrown on with
a slovenly nonchalance. His stockings were about his
heels, his hair- was dishevelled, and the light, streaming
through the half-drawn window-curtains, rested upon the
grey flakes with which its darker luxuriance was inter-
spersed ; and the cross light in which he had the imprudence
or misfortune to sit, fully developed the deep wrinkles
which years and dissipation had planted round his eyes
and mouth. I was quite startled at the oldnesa and
haggardness of his appearance.
He rose gracefully enough when I was announced ; and
no sooner had the waiter retired, than he came up to me,
shook me warmly by the hand, and said, " Let me thank
you now for the attention you formerly showed me, when
I was less able to express my acknowledgments. I shall
be proud to cultivate your intimacy."
I answered him in the same strain, and, in the course
of conversation, made myself so entertaining, that he agreed
to spend the remainder of the day with me. We ordered
our horses at three, and our dinner at seven, and Lleft him
till the former were ready, in order to allow him time for
his toilet.
During our ride we talked principally on general sub-
jects, on the various differences of France and England^
on horses, on wines, on women, on politics, on all things,
except that which had created our acquaintance. His
remarks were those of a strong, ill-regulated mind, which
I.— 23
266 pelham; or,
made experience supply the place of the reasoning facnl*
ties ; there was a looseness in his sentiments, and a licen-
tioasness in his opinions, which startled even me (ased as I
had been to rakes of all schools) : his philosophy was of
that species which thinks that the best maxim of wisdom is
— to despise. Of men he spoke with the bitterness of
hatred ; of women, with the levity of contempt. France had
taught him its debaucheries, but not the elegance which
refines them : if his sentiments were low, the language in
which they were clothed was' meaner still : and that which
makes the morality of the upper classes, and which no
criminal is supposed to be hardy enough to reject ; that
religion which has no scoffers, that code which has no
impugners, thcU honor among gentlemen, which constitutes
the moving principle of the society in which they live, he
seemed to imagine, even in its most fundamental laws, was
an authority to which nothing but the inexperience of the
young, and the credulity of the romantic, could accede.
Upon the whole, he seemed to me a " bold, bad man,**
with just enough of intellect to teach him to be a villain,
without that higher degree which shows him that it is the
worst course for his interest ; and just enough of daring
to make him indifferent to the dangers of guilt, though it
was not suf&cient to make him conquer and control them.
For the rest, he loved trotting better than cantering —
piqued himself upon being manly — wore doe-skin gloves
— drank port winef par priferencej and considered beef-
steaks and oyster-sauce as the most delicate dish ip the
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 26T
bill of fare. I think, now, reader, jou have a tolerably
good view of his character
After dinner, when we were discussing the second bottle,
I thought it would not be a bad opportunity to question
him upon his acquaintance with Olanville. His counte-
nance fell directly I mentioned that name. However, he
rallied himself. " Oh," said he, "you mean the soi-disant
Warburton. I knew him some years back — he was a
poor silly youth, half mad, I believe, and particularly
hostile to me, owing to some foolish disagreement when
he was quite a boy."
" What was the cause f " said I.
"Nothing — nothing of any consequence," answered
Tyrrell ; and then added, with an air of coxcombry, " I
believe I was more fortunate than he, in a certain intrigue
Poor Glanville is a little romantic, you know. But enough
of this now : shall we go to the rooms 1 "
" With pleasure," said I ; and to the rooms we went
9B8 pelham; ob.
CHAPTER XLIII.
Yeteres reyocavit artes. — Hob.
Since I came hither I have heard straBge news. — King Ltar,
Two days after my long conversation with Tyrrell, I
called again upon that worthy. To my great surprise he
hdd left Cheltenham. I then strolled to Vincent : I found
him lolling on his sofa, surrounded, as usual, with books
and papers.
'' Come in, Pelham," said he, as I hesitated at the
threshold — "come in. I have been delighting myself
with Plato all the morning ; I scarcely know what it is
that enchants us so much with the ancients. I rather
believe, with Schlegel, that it is that air of perfect repose
— the stillness of a deep soul, which rests over their wri-
tings Whatever would appear commonplace amongst
us, has with them I know not what of sublimity and pathos.
Triteness seems the profundity of truth — wildness, the
daring of a luxuriant imagination. The fact is, that in
spite of every fault, you see, through all, the traces of
original thought ; there is a contemplative grandeur in
their sentiments, which seems to have nothing borrowed
in its meaning or its dress. Take, for instance, this frag-
ment of Mimnermus, or the shortness of life, — what
subject can seem more tame 1 — what less striking than the
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 2€l
feelings he expresses ? — and yet, throughout every line,
there is a melancholy depth and tenderness, which it is
Impossible to define. Of all English writers who partake
the most of this spirit of conveying interest and strength
to sentiments and subjects neither novel in themselves, nor
adorned in their arrangement, I know none that equal
Byron : it is indeed the chief beauty of that extraordinary
poet. Examine Ohilde Harold accurately, and you will
be surprised to discover how very little of real dept^ or
novelty there often is in the reflections which seem raodt
deep and new. Tou are enchained by the vague but
powerful beauty of the style ; the strong impress of crigi-
nality -which breathes throughout Like the oracle of
Dodona, he makes the forest his tablets, and writes his
inspirations upon the leaves of the trees ; but the source
of that inspiration you cannot tell ; it is neither the truth
nor the beauty of his sayings which you admire, though
you fancy that it is : it is the mystery which accompanies
them."
*' Pray," said I, "do you not imagine that one great
cause of this spirit of which you speak, and which seems
to be nothing more than a thoughtful method of express-
ing all things, even to trifles, was the great loneliness to
which the ancient poets and philosophers were attached J
I think (though I have not your talent for quoting) that
Cicero calls 'the consideration of nature the food of the
mind,' and the mind which, in solitude, is confined neces-
sarily to a few objects, meditates more closely upon those
it embraces ; the habit of this meditation enters and pet"
23*
870 pelham; or,
vades the system, and whatever afterwards emanates from
it is tinctared with the thoaghful and contemplative colors
it has received."
"Wonderful!" cried Vincent: **how long have you
learnt to read Cicero, and talk about the mind ? "
"Ah," said I, " I am perhaps less ignorant than I affect
to be : it is now my object to be a dandy ; hereafter I
may aspire to be an orator — a wit, a scholar, or a Vin-
cent. Tou will see then that there have been many odd
quarters of an hour in my life less unprofitably wasted
than you imagine."
Vincent rose in a sort of nervous excitement, and then
reseating Jiimself, fixed his dark bright eyes steadfastly
upon me for some moments ; his countenance all the while
assuming a higher and graver expession than I had ever
before seen it wear.
" Pelham," said he, at last, " it is for the sake of moments
lik!e these, when your better nature flashes out, that I have
sought your society and your friendship. 7, too, am not
wholly what I appear : the world may yet see that Halifax
was not the only statesman whom the pursuits of literature
had only formed the better for the labors of business.
Meanwhile, let me pass for the pedant, and the bookworm :
like a sturdier adventurer than myself, * I bide my time. '
-— Pelham — this will be a busy ses^on I shall you prepare
for it?"
" Nay," answered I, relapsing into my usual tone of
languid affectation; "I shall have too much to do in
attending to Stultz, and Nugee, and Tattersall and Baxter,
A^DyENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 271
and a bandred other occupiers of spare time. Remember,
this is mj first season in London since my majority.'
Vincent took up tbe newspaper with evident chagrin ;
however, be was too theoretically the man of the world
lotg to show his displeasure. "Parr — Parr — again,"
said be; ''bow they stuff the journals with that name I
Heaven knows, I venerate learning as much as any man ;
but I respect it for its uses, and not for itself. However,
I will not quarrel with his reputation — it is but for a day.
Literary men, who leave nothing but their name to pos-
terity, have but a short twilight of posthumous renown.
ApropoSj do you know my pun upon Parr and the Major."
"Not I," said I, **Majora canamusi"
" Why, Parr and I, and two or three more, were dining
once at poor T. M 's, the author of * The Indian An-
tiquities.' Major , a great traveller, entered into a
dispute with Parr about Babylon ; the Doctor got into
a violent passion, and poured out such a heap of quotations
on his unfortunate antagonist, that the latter, stunned by
the clamor, and terrified by the Greek, was obliged to
succumb. Parr turned triumphantly to me: "What is
your opinion, my lord," said he ; " who is in the right ? "
"Adversis major — par secundis,^^ answered L
" Vincent," I said, after I had expressed sufficient ad-
miration at his pun — " Vincent, I begin to be weary of
this life ; I shall accordingly pack up my books and myself,
and go to Malvern Wells, t<^ live quietly till I think it time
for London. After to-day you will, therefore, see me no
more."
272 PELHAM; OR,
** I canDot," answered Yincent, " contravene so laudable
a purpose, however I may be the loser." And, after a
short and desultory conversation, I left him once more to
the tranquil enjoyment of his Plato. That evening I went
to Malvern, and there I remained in a monotonous state of
existence, dividing my time equally between my mind and
my body, and forming myself into that state of contempla-
tive reflection, which was the object of Yincent's admira-
tion in the writings of the ancients.
Just when I was on the point of leaving my retreat, I
received an intelligence which most materially affected my
future prospects. My uncle, who had arrived at the sober
age of fifty, without any apparent designs of matrimony,
fell suddenly in love with a lady in his immediate neigh-
borhood, and married her, after a courtship of three
weeks.
** I should not," said my poor mother, very generously,
in a subsequent letter, *^ so much have minded his marriage,
if the lady had not thought proper to become in the family
way ; a thing which I do and always shall consider a most
unwarrantable encroachment on your rights."
I will confess that, on first hearing this news, I expe-
rienced a bitter pang : but I reasoned it away. I was
already under great obligations to my uncle, and I felt it
a very unjust and ungracious assumption on my part, to
affect anger at conduct I had no right to question, or
mortification at the loss of pretensions I had so equivocal
a privilege to form. A man of fifty has, perhaps, a right
to consult his own happiness, almost as much as a man
ADVENTURES OF A OSNTLEMAN. 279
of thirty ; and if he attracts hy his choice the ridicule o^
those whom he has never obliged, it is at least from those
persons he has obliged, that he is to look for countenance
and defence.
Fraught with these ideas, I wrote to my uncle a sincere
and warm letter of congratulation. His answer was, like
himself, kind, affectionate, and generous ; it informed me
that he had already made over to me the annual sum of
one thousand pounds; and that in case of his having a
lineal heir, he had, moreover, settled upon me, after his
death, two thousand a-year. He ended by assuring me
that his only regret at marrying a lady who, in all respects
was, above all women, calculated to make him happy, was
his unfeigned reluctance to deprive me of a station, which
(he was pleased to say) I not only deserved, but should
adorn.
TTpon receiving this letter, I was sensibly affected with
my uncle's kindness ; and so far from repining at his choice
I most heartily wished him every blessing it could afford
him, even though an heir to the titles of Glenmorris were
one of them.
I protracted my stay at Malvern some weeks longer than
I had intended : the circumstance which had wrought so
great a change in my fortune, wrought no less powerfully
on my character. I became more thoughtfully and solidly
ambitious. Instead of wasting my time in idle regrets at
the station I had lost, I rather resolved to carve out for
myself one still lofty and more universally acknowledged.
I determined to exercise, to their utmost, the little ability
8
271 PELUAM; OR,
ind kno(7ledge I possessed ; and while the increase of
income, derived from my ancle's generosity, famished me
with what was necessary for my Inxury, I was resolved
that it should not encourage me in the indulgence of my
Indolence.
In this mood, and with these intentions, I repaired to
the metropolis.
CHAPTER XLIV.
Gum palohris taniois samet nova oonsilia et spes. — Hob.
And look always that they be shape,
What garment that thou shalt make
Of him that can best do
With all that pertaineth thereto. — Rom. of ihe Rote,
How well I can remember the feelings with which I
entered London, and took possession of the apartments
prepared for me at Mivart's I A year had made a vast
alteration in my mind ; I had ceased to regard pleasure
for its own sake ; I rather coveted its enjoyments, as the
great sources of worldly distinction. I was not the less
a coxcomb than heretofore, nor the less fastidious in my
horses and my dress ; but I viewed these matters in a light
wholly different from that in which I had hitherto regarded
them. Beneath all the carelessness of my exterior, my
•uind was close, keen, and inquiring ; and under all the
ADYENTUUE8 CP A GENTLEMAN 276
affectations of foppery, and the levity of manner, I veiled
an ambition the most extensive in its objects, and a reso*
Intion the most daring in the accomplishment of its means.
I was still lounging over my breakfast, on the second
morning of my arrival, when Mr. , the tailor, was
annoanced.
*' Good morning, Mr. Pelham ; happy to see you returned
Do I disturb you too early ? shall I wait on you again ? "
" No, Mr. , I am ready to receive you. You may
renew my measure."
" We are a very good figure, Mr. Pelham ; very good
figure," replied the Schneider, surveying me from head to
foot, while he was preparing his measure ; " we want a
little assistance though ; we must be padded well here, we
must have our chest thrown out, and have an additional
inch across the shoulders ; we must live for effect in this
world, Mr. Pelham ; a leetle tighter round the waist, eh ? "
" Mr. ," said I, " you will take, first, my exact
measure, and, secondly, my exact instructions. Have you
done the first ?"
" We are done now, Mr. Pelham," replied my man-
maker, in a slow, solemn tone.
" You will have the goodness then to put no stuffing of
any description in my coat ; you will not pinch me an iota
lighter across the waist than is natural to that part of my
body ; and you will please, in your infinite mercy, to leave
me as much after the fashion in which God made me, as
you possibly can."
\
976 PELUAM^ Oily
" Bat, sir, we miLst be padded : we are mncli too thin ;
all the gentlemen in the Life Guards are padded, sir/'
"Mr. ," answered I, "you will please to speak of
us with a separate, and not a collectire pronoun ; and you
will let me for once have mj clothes such as a gentleman,
who, I beg of you to understand, is not a Life Guardsman,
can wear without being mistaken for a Guy Fawkes on a
fifth of November."
Mr. - — looked very discomfited : " We shall not be
liked, sir, when we are made — we shan't, I assure you.
I will call on Saturday at eleven o'clock. Good morning,
Mr. Pelham ; we shall never be done justice to, if we do
not live for effect ; good morning, Mr. Pelham."
And here, as I am weary of tailors, let me reflect a little
upon that divine art of which they are the professors.
Alas, for the instability of all human sciences 1 A few
short months ago, in the first edition of this memorable
work, I laid down rules for costume, the value of which
Fashion begins already to destroy. The thoughts which
I shall now embody, shall be out of the reach of that great
innovator, and applicable not to one age, but to all. To
the sagacious reader, who has already discovered what
portions of this work are writ in irony — what in earnest
— I fearlessly commit these maxims ; beseeching him to
believe, with Sterne, that " everything is big with jest, and
has wit in it, and instruction too, — if we can but find it
out I "
▲ DYENTURSB OF A GENTLEMAN. 277
MAXIMS.
I.
Do not reqnire your dress so much to fit as to adorn
you. Nature is not to be copied, but to be exalted by
art. Apelles blamed Protogenes for being too natural.
II.
Never in your dress altogether desert that taste which
is general. The world considers ecv^entricity in great
things genius ; in small things, folly.
III.
Always remember that yon dress to fascinate others,
not yourself.
IV.
Keep your mind free from all violent affectations at the
boar of the toilet. A philosophical serenity is perfectly
necessary to success. Helvetius says justly, that our errors
arise from our passions.
V.
Remember that none but those whose courage is un-
questionable, can venture to be effeminate. It was only
in the field that the Spartans were accustomed to use
perfumes and curl their hair.
VI.
Never let the finery of chains and rings seem your own
choice ; that which naturally belongs to women should
appear only worn for their sake. We dignify foppery,
when we invest it with a seCiiment.
I.— 24
278 pelham; or,
VII.
To win the affection of jonr mistress, appear negligent
In your costume — to preserve it, assiduous : the first is a
sign of the passion of love ; the second, of its respect
VIII.
A man must be a profound calculator to be a consum-
mate dresser. One must not dress the same, whether one
goes to a minister or mistress ; an avaricious uncle, or an
ostentatious cousin : there is no diplomacy more subtle
than that of dress.
IX.
Is the great man whom you would conciliate a coxcomb ?
^wgo to him in a waistcoat like his own. "Imitation,"
says the author of Lacon, ''is the sincerest flattery."
X.
The handsome may be showy in dress, the plain should
study to be unexceptionable ; just as in great men we look
for something to admire — in ordinary men we ask for
nothing to forgive.
XL
There is a study of dress for the aged, as well as for the
young. Inattention is no less indecorous in one than in
the other ; we may distinguish the taste appropriate to
each, by the reflection that youth.is made to be loved —
a^e to be resoected.
V
ADYENTUBES OF A GENTLEMAN. 279
XIL
A fool may dress gaadilj, but a fool cannot dress well
— for to dress well requires judgment ; and Bochefoacaalt
says with tnith, ** On est quelquefoia un sot avec de VesprU,
jKiais on ne Vest jamais avec du jugemerd,^^
XIII.
There may be more pathos in the fall of a collar, or the
curl of a lock, than the shallow think for. Shoald we be
so. apt as we are now to compassionate the misfortunes,
and to forgive the insincerity of Charles I., if his pictures
bad portrayed him in a bob-wig and a pig-tail ? Vandyke
was a greater sophist than Hume.
XIV.
The most graceful principle of dress is neatness — the
most vulgar is preciseness.
XV.
Dress contains the two codes of morality — private and
public. Attention is the duty we owe to others — clean-
liness that which we owe to ourselves.
XVI.
Dress so that it. may never be said of you '* What a
well-dressed man I " — but, " What a gentlemanlylike
man I "
XVII.
Avoid many colors ; and seek, by some one prevalent
and quiet tint, to sober down the others. Apelles used
only four colors, and always subdued those which were
more florid, by a darkening varnish.
280 i>ELHAM; OB,
XVIII.
Nothing is superficial to a deep observer I It is iu
trifles that the mind betrays itself. ** In what part of that
letter," said a king to the wisest of living diplomatists,
" did you discover irresolution f " — " In its ns and gs I '*
was the answer.
XIX.
A very benevolent man will never shock the feelings of
others, by an excess either of inattention or display : you
may doubt,. therefore, the philanthropy both of a sloven
and a fop.
There is an indifference to please in a stocking down at
heel— but there may be malevolence in a diamond ring.
XXI.
Inventions in dressing should resemble Addison's defi-
nition of fine writing, and consist of " refinements which
are natural, without being obvious."
XXII.
He who esteems trifles for themselves, is a trifler-^
he who esteems them for the conclusioas to be drawn from
them, or the advantage to which they can be put, ig ft
philosopher.
ADYXNTUKJIS OV A QENTLEMAN. 281
CHAPTER XLV.
Tantdt, Monseignear le Marquis & chey&l—
Tantdt, Monsieur du Mozin de bout I — L*Arl de se Prominer d Cheval,
Mt cabriolet was at the door, and I was preparing to
enter, when I saw a groom managing, with difficulty, a
remarkably fine and spirited horse. As, at that time, I
was chiefly occupied with the desire of making as perfect
a stud as my fortune would allow, I sent my cab boy (;vulgd
Tiger) to inquire of the groom, whether the horse was to
be sold, and to whom it belonged.
"It was not to be disposed of," was the answer, ** and
it belonged to Sir Reginald Glanville."
The naQ>e thrilled through me ; I drove after the groom,
and inquired Sir Reginald Glanville's address. His house,
the groom informed me, was at No. — Pall Mall. I
resolved to call that day, but, as the groom said that he
was rarely at home till late in the afternoon, I drove first
to Lady Roseville's to talk about Almack's and the beau
monde, and be initiated into the newest scandal and satire
of the day.
Lady Roseville was at home ; I found the room half
full of women : the beautiful countess was one of the few
persons extant who admit people of a morning. She
received me with marked kindness. Seeing that ^
24*
S83 pelham; oe,
who was esteemed, among his friends, the handsomest man
Df the day, had risen from his seat, next to Lady Roseville,
in order to make room for me, I negligently and quietly
dropped into it, and answered his grave and angry stare
at my presumption, with my very sweetest and most con-
descending smile. Heaven be praised, the handsomest
man of the day is never the chief object in the room, when
Henry Pelham and his guardian angel, termed by big
enemies, his self-esteem^ once enter it.
I rattled on through a variety of subjects till Lady
Boseville at last said laughingly, '' I see, Mr. Pelham,
that yon have learned, at least, the art of making the
frais of the conversation since your visit to Paris."
" I understand you," answered I ; " you mean that I
talk too much ; it is true — I own the offence — nothing
is 80 unpopular 1 Even I, the civilest, best-natured, most
unaffected person in all Europe, am almost disliked, posi-
tively disliked, for that sole and simple crime. Ah I the
most beloved man in society is that deaf and dumb person,
comment s^appelle-t-il f "
" Yes," said Lady Roseville, " Popularity is a goddess
best worshipped by negatives ; and the fewer claims one
has to be admired, the more pretensions one has to be
beloved. "
"Perfectly true, in general," said I — "for instance,
I make the rule, and you the exception. I, a perfect
paragon, am hated because I am one ; you, a perfect
paragon, are idolized in spite of it. But tell me, whal
literary news is there ? I am tired of the trouble cJ Ix .*
ADYENTUBEB OF A GENTLEMAN. 283
0688, and in order to enjoy a little dignified leisure, intend
to set np as a savanU^
" Oh, Ladj C is going to write a Commentary
on Ude ; and Madame de Genlis a Proof of the Apocrypha.
The Dake of N e is publishing a Treatise on ' Tolera-
tion ; ' and Lord L an Essay on * Self-knowledge.
As for news more remote, I hear that the Dey of Algiers
is finishing an 'Ode to Liberty,' and the College of Caf-
fraria preparing a volume of voyages to the North Pole 1 "
'• Now," said I, " if I retail this information with a
serions air, I will lay a wager that I find plenty of believers ;
for fiction, uttered solomnly, is much more like probability
than truth uttered doubtingly : — else how do the priests
of Brama and Mahomet live 1 "
"Ah ! now you grow too profound, Mr. Pelham 1 "
" C'est vrai — but — "
" Tell me," interrupted Lady Roseville, " how it hap-
pens that you, who talk eruditely enough upon mattei
of erudition, should talk so lightly upon matters of levity ? "
" Why," said I, rising to depart^ " very great minds
are apt to think that all which they set any value upon, is
of equal importance. Thus Hesiod, who, you know, was
a capital poet, though rather an imitator of Shenstone,
tells us that God bestowed valor on some men, and on
others a genius for dancing. It was reserved for me,
Lady Roseville, to unite the two perfections. Adieu I "
** Thus," said I, whpn I was once more alone — " thus
do we ' play the fools with the time,' until Fate brings
that which is better than folly ; and, standing idly upon
284 pelham; or,
^he sea-shore, till we can catch the favoring wind which
is to waft the vessel of our destiny to enterprise and fortune,
amuse ourselves with the weeds and the pebbles which ar«
within our reach I "
CHAPTER XLVI.
There was a youth who, as with toil and trayel,
Had grown quite weak and grey before his time;
Nor any oould the restless grief unraTel
Which burned within him, withering up his prime.
And goading him, like fiends, from land to land. —
P. B. Shbllbt.
From Lady Roseville's I went to Glanville's house. He
was at home. I was ushered into a beautiful apartment,
hung with rich damask, and interspersed with a profusion
of mirrors. Beyond, to the right of this room, was a small
closet, fitted up with books. This room, evidently a
iRvorite retreat, was adorned at close intervals with gir-
andoles of silver and mother-of-pearl ; the handles of the
doors were of the same material.
This closet opened upon a spacious and lofty saloon,
the walls' of which were covered with the masterpieces of
Flemish and Italian art. Through this apartment I was
led, by the obsequious and bowing valet, into a fourth
room, in which, negligently robed in his dressing-gown,
tate Reginald Olanville : — '' Oood Heavens," thought I,
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 285
as I approached him, " can this be the man who made hia
residence, by choice, in a miserable hovel, exposed to all
the damps, winds, and vapors, that the prolific generosity
of an English Heaven ever begot ? "
Onr meeting was cordial in the extreme. Glanville.
thongh still pale and thin, appeared in mnch better health
than I had jet seen him since our boyhood. He was, or
affected to be, in the most joyous spirits ; and when his
blue eye lighted up, in answer to the merriment of his lips,
and his noble and glorious cast of countenance shone out,
as if it had never been clouded by grief or passion, I
thought as I looked at him, that I had never seen so
perfect a specimen of masculine beauty, at once physical
and intellectual.
" My dear Pelham," said Glanville, " let us see a great
deal of each other : I live very much alone : I have an
excellent cook sent me over from France by the celebrated
gourmand Marechal de . I dine every day exactly
at eight, and never accept an invitation to dine elsewhere
My table is always laid for three, and you will, therefore,
be sure of finding a dinner here every day you have no
better engagement. What think you of my taste in
pictures ? "
" I have only to say," answered I, " that since I am so
often to dine with you, I hope your taste in wines will be
one-half as good."
" We are all," said Glanville, with a faint smile, " we
are all, in the words of the true old proverb, ' children of
• larger growth.' Our first toy is love — our second.
286 pelham; or,
display, according as our ambition prompts as to exert it.
Some place it in horses — some in honors, some in feasts,
and some — void un exemple — in furniture or pictures.
So true it is, Pelham, that our earliest longings are the
purest : in love, we covet goods for the sake, of the one
beloved : in display, for our own : thus, our first stratum
of mind produces fruit for others ; our second becomes
niggardly, and bears only sufficient for ourselves. But
enough of my morals — will you drive me out, if I drc^''
quicker than you ever saw man "dress before ? "
" No," said I ; " for I make it a rule never to drive out a
badly-dressed friend ; take time, and I will let you accom-
pany me."
" So be it, then. Do you ever read f if so, my books
are made to be opened, and yon may toss them over while
I am at my toilet. Look — here are two works, one of
poetry — one on the Catholic Question — both dedicated
• to me. Seymour — my waistcoat. See what it is to
furnish a house differently from other people ; one becomes
a bel esprit, and a MecsBnas, immediately. Believe me,
if you are rich enough to afford it, that there is no passport
to fame like eccentricity. Seymour — my coat. I am at
your service, Felham. Believe hereafter that one may
dress well in a short time 1 "
** One may do it, but not two — allons!^^
I observed that Glanville was dressed in the deepest
mourning, and imagined, from that circnmstance, and his
accession to the title I heard applied to him for the first
time, that his father was only just dead. In this opinion
ADVENTURES OV A QENTELMAN. 281
I was soon undeceived. He had been dead for some years.
Qlanville spoke to me of his family : — " To my mother/^
said he, " I am particularly anxious to introduce you ; of
my sister I say nothing ; I expect you to be surprised with
ber. I love her more than any thing on earth note;," and
as Glanville said this, a paler shade passed over his face.
We were in the Park — Lady Roseville passed us —
we both bowed to her ; as she returned our greeting, I
was struck with the deep and sudden blush which over-
spread her countenance. " That can't be for me f " thought
I« I looked towards Glanville; his countenance had
recovered its serenity, and was settled into its usual proud,
but not displeasing, calmness of expression.
" Do you know Lady Roseville well ? " said I.
" Very," answered Glanville, laconically, and changed
the conversation. As we were leaving the Park, through
Cumberland Gate, we were stopped by a blockade of car-
riages ; a voice, loud, harsh, and vulgarly accented^ called
out to Glanville by his name. I turned, and saw Thornton.
" For Heaven's sake, Pelham, drive on," cried Glanville \
**let me, for once, escape that atrocious plebeian."
Thornton was crossing the road towards us ; I waved
my hand to him civilly enough (for I never cut anybody),
and drove rapidly through the other gate, without appear-
ing to notice his design of speaking to us.
" Thank Heaven I " said Glanville, and isank back in a
reverie, from which I could not awaken him, till he was
let down at his own door.
888 pslham; ob,
When I returned to Mivart's, I fonnd a card from
Lord Dawton, and a letter from mj mother.
" My dear Henry, (began the letter,)
** Lord Dawton having kindly promised to call upon
JQU, personally, with this note, I cannot resist the oppor-
tunity that promise affords me, of saying how desirous I
am that you should cultivate his acquaintance. He is,
you know, among the most prominent leaders of the
Opposition : and should the Whigs, by any possible chance,
ever come into power, he would have a great chance of
becoming prime minister. I trust, however, that you will
not adopt that side of the question. The Whigs are a
horrid set of people {politically speaking), vote for the
Roman Catholics, and never get into place ; they give
very good dinners, however, and till you have decided
upon your politics, you may as well make the most of
them. I hope, by-the-by, that you will see a great deal
of Lord Vincent : every one speaks highly of his talents ;
and only two weeks ago, he said, publicly, that he thought
you the most promising young man, and the most naturally
clever person, he had ever met. I hope that you will
be attentive to your parliamentary duties; and, oh,
Henry, be sure that you see Cartwright, the dentist, as
soon as possible.
'^ I intend hastening to London three weeks earlier than
I had intended, in order to be useful to you. I have
written already to dear liady Boseville, begging her to
introduce you at Lady C.'s, and Lady ; the only
ADVENTURBS OF A OENTLKMAN. 289
places worth goings to at present. They tell me there is a
horrid, vulgar, ignorant book come out about . As
you ought to be well versed in modern literature, I hope
you will read it, and give me your opinion. Adieu, my
dear Henry, ever your affectionate mother,
Frances Pelham."
I was still at my solitary dinner, when the following
note was brought me from Lady Roseville : —
" Dear Mr. Pelham,
"Lady Frances wishes Lady C to be made ac-
quainted with you; this is her night, and I therefore
enclose you a card. As I dine at House, I shall
have an opportunity of making your iloge before your
arrival. Your's sincerely,
"C. Roseville."
I wonder, thought I, as I made my toilet, whether or
not Lady Roseville is enamoured of her new correspon-
dent ? I went very early, and before I retired, my vanity
was undeceived. Lady Roseville was playing 6cart6f when
I entered. She beckoned to me to approach. I did.
Her antagonist was Mr. Bedford, a natural son of the
Duke of Shrewsbury, and one of the best liatured and best
looking dandies about town : there was, of course, a great
crowd round the table. Lady Roseville played incom-
parably; bets were high in her favor. Suddenly her
countenance changed — her hand trembled — her presence
Or mmd forsook her. She lost the game. I looked up,
and saw just opposite to her, but apparently quite careless
L — 26 T
890 pelham; or,
and anmoved; Reginald Glanville. We had only time to
exchange nods, for Lady Roseville, rising from the table,
took my arm, and walked to the other end of the room,
in order to introduce me to my hostess.
I spoke to her a few words, but she was absent and
inattentive ; my penetration required no farther proof to
convince me that she was not wholly insensible to the
attractions of Glanville. Lady was as civil and silly
as the generality of Lady Blanks are : and feeling very
much bored, I soon retired to an obscurer corner of the
room. Here Glanville joined me.
" It is but seldom," said he, " that I come to these
places ; to-night ray sister persuaded me to venture forth."
" Is she here ? " said I.
"She is," answered he; "she has just gone into the
refreshment-room with my mother ; and when she returns,
I will introduce you."
While Glanville was yet speaking, three middle-aged
ladies, who had been talking together with great vehe-
mence for the last ten mmutes, approached us.
" Which is he ? — which is he ? " said two of them, in
no inaudible accents.
" This," replfed the third ; and coming up to Glanville,
^bo addressed him, to my great astonishment, in terms of
the most hyperbolical panegyric.
" Your work is wonderful I wonderful I " said she.
" Oh I quite — quite I " echoed the other two.
"I can't say," recommended the Goryphcea, "that I
like the moral — at least not quite ; no, not quite "
"Not quite," repeated her coadjutrices.
ADYENTTJBSS OF A GENTLEMAN. 291
Glanyille drew himself np with his most stately air, and
after three profoand bows, accompanied by a smile of the
most aneqaivocal contempt, he tamed on his heel, and
sauntered away.
" Did yonr grace ever see snch a bear t " said one of
the echoes.
" Never," said the Duchess, with a mortified air ; " but
I will have him yet. How handsome he is, for an author 1 *'
1 was descending the stairs in the last state of entiui,
when Qlanville laid his hand on my shoulder.
*' Shall I take you home 1 " said he : '' my carriage has
just drawn up."
I was too glad to answer in the affirmative.
" How long have you been an author ? " said I, when we
were seated in Qlanville's carriage.
" Not many days," he replied. " I have tried one re-
source after another — all — all in vain. Oh, God I that
for me there could exist such a blessing as fiction ! Must
I be ever the martyr of one burning, lasting, indelible
iruUi /"
Qlanville uttered these words with a peculiar wildness
and energy of tone : he then paused abruptly for a minute,
and continued, with an altered voice —
" Never, my dear Pelham, be tempted by any induce-
ment into the pleasing errors of print ; from that moment
you are public property ; and the last monster at Exeter
'Change has more liberty than you ; but here we are at
Mivart's. Adieu — I will call on you to-morrow, if my
wretched state of health will allow me."
And with these words we parted.
S92 pelham; ob,
CHAPTER XLVII.
Ambition is a lottery, where, howeyer uneVen the chances, there
aomt prizes ; but in dissipation, every one draws a blank.
Letters of Stephen Montague.
The season was not far advanced before I grew heartily
tired of what are nicknamed its gaieties ; I shrank, by
rapid degrees, into a very small orbit, from which I rarely
moved. I had already established a certain reputation
for eccentricity, fashion, and to my great astonishment, also
for talent ; and my pride was satisfied with finding myself
universally ran after, whilst I indulged my inclinations
by rendering myself universally scarce. I saw much of
Vincent, whose varied acquirements and great talents
became more and more perceptible, both as my own ac-
quaintance with him increased, and as the political events
with which that year was pregnant, called forth their exer-
tion and display. I went occasionally to Lady Roseville's,
and was always treated rather as a long-known friend,
than an ordinary acquaintance ; nor did I undervalue this
distinction, for it was part of her pride to render her
house not only as splendid, but as agreeable, as her com-
mand over society enabled her to effect.
At the House of Commons my visits would have been
duly paid, but for one trifling occurrence, upon which, as
It IS a very sore subject I shall dwell as briefly as possible
AiVBNTURBS Ot A GENTLEMAN. 9x8
I had scarcely taken my seat, before I was forced to relin-
qaish it. My nnsaccessfal opponent, Mr. Luflon, preferred
a petition against me, for what he called nndae meana
Heaven knows what he meant ; I am sure the Honse did
not, for they turned me out, and declared Mr. Lufton duly
elected.
Never was there such a commotion in the Olenmorris
family before. My uncle was seized with the gout in his
stomach, and my mother shut herself up with Tremaine
and one China monster for a whole week. As for me,
though I writhed at heart, I bore the calamity philosophi-
cally enough in external appearance ; nor did I the less
busy myself in political matters : with what address and
success, good or bad, I endeavored to supply the loss of
my parliamentary influence, the reader will see, when it
suits the plot of this history to touch upon such topics.
Glanville I saw continually. When in tolerable spirits,
he was an entertaining, though never a frank nor a com*
municative companion. His conversation then was lively,
yet without wit, and sarcastic, though without bitterness.
It abounded also in philosophical reflections and terse
maxims, which always brought improvement, or, at the
worst, allowed discussion. He was a man of even vast
powers — of deep thought — of luxuriant, though dark
imagination, and of great miscellaneous, though, perhaps,
ill-arranged erudition. He was fond of paradoxes in rea-
soning, and supported them with a subtlety and strength
of mind, which Vincent, who admired him greatly, told
me he had never seen surpassed. He was subject, at times^
25* H
294 felham; ok,
to a gloom and despondency, which seemed almost like
aberration of intellect At those hoars he would remain
perfectly silent, and apparently forgetful of my presence,
and of every object aronnd him.
It was only then, when the play of his countenance was
yanished, and his features were still and set, that you saw
in their full extent, the dark and deep traces of premature
decay. His cheek was hollow and hueless, his eye dim,
and of that visionary and glassy aspect which is nerer
seen but in great mental or bodily disease, and which
according to the superstitions of some nations, implies a
mysterious and unearthly communion of the soul with the
beings of another world. From these trances he would
sometimes start abruptly, and renew any conversation
broken off before, as if wholly unconscious of the length
of his reverie. At others, he would rise slowly from hia
seat, an3 retire into his own apartment, from which he
never emerged during the rest of the day.
But the reader must bear in mind that there was nothing
artificial or affected in his musings, of whatever complexion
they might be ; nothing like the dramatic brown studies,
and quick starts, which young gentlemen, in love with
Lara and Lord Byron, are apt to practise. There never,
indeed, was a character that possessed less cant of any
description. His work, which was a singular, wild tale —
of mingled passim and reflection — was, perhaps, of too
original, certainly of too abstract a nature, to suit the
ordinary novel-readers of the day. It did not acquire
popularity for itself, but it gained great reputation for the
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN, 295
author. It also inspired every one who read it with a
vague and indescribable interest to see and know the person
who had composed so singular a work.
This interest he was the first to laugh at, and to disap-
point He shrank from all admiration and from all sym-
pathy. At the moment when a crowd assembled round
him, and every ear was bent to catch the words, which
came alike from so beautiful a lip, and so strange and
imaginative a mind, it was his pleasure to utter some
sentiment totally different from his written opinions, and
utterly destructive of the sensation he had excited. But
it was very rarely that he exposed himself to these " trials
of an author." He went out little to any other house but
Lady Roseville's, and it was seldom more than once a
week that he was seen even there. Lonely, and singular
in mind and habits, he lived in the world like a person
occupied by a separate object, and possessed of a separate
existence from that of his fellow-beings. He was luxurious
and splendid, beyond all men, in his habits, rather than
his tastes. His table groaned beneath a weight of silver,
too costly for the daily service even of a prince ; but he
had no pleasure in surveying it. His wines and viands
were of the most exquisite description ; but he scarcely
tasted them. Yet, what may seem inconsistent, he was
averse to ail ostentation and show in the eyes of others.
He admitted very few into his society — no one so inti-
mately as myself. I never once saw more than three
persons at his table. He seemed, in his taste for the arts,
[n his love of literature, and his pursuit after fame, to be
296 PELHAM; OK,
as he himself said, eternally endeavoring to forget, and
eternally brought back to remembrance.
*^ I pity that man even more than I admire him," said
Yincent to me, one night when we were walking home
from Olanyille's honse. " His is, indeed, the disease
nulld medicabilis herhd. Whether it is the past or the
present that afflicts him — whether it is the memory of
past evil, or the satiety of present good, he has taken to
his heart the bitterest philosophy of life. He does not
reject its blesssings — he gathers them around him, but
as a stone gathers moss — cold, hard nnsoftened by the
freshness and the greenness which surround it. As a
circle can only touch a circle in one place, everything that
life presents to him, wherever it comes from — to whatever
portion of his soul it is applied — can find but one point
of contact ; and that is the soreness of affliction : whether
it is the oblivio or the otium that he requires, he finds
equally that he is for ever in want of one treasure i'*-
*fiegue gemmis neque purpurd venate nee auro,^^^
ADYSNTUBES OF A GENTLEMAN. 291
CHAPTER XLVIII.
Mons. Jourdam. Etes-TOus fou de Taller quereller — lni qni
entend la tieroe et la qaarte, et qui salt tuer un homme par raison
d^monstratiye ?
Le Mditre d Darner, Je me moque de sa raison d^monstratiTe,
et de sa tierce et de sa quarte. — Moliebi.
" Hollo, my good friend ; how are you f — d d
glad to see you in England," vociferated a loud, clear,
good-humored voice, one cold morning, as I was shivering
down Brook-street into Bond-street. I turned, and beheld
Lord Dartmore, of Bocher de Cancale memory. I re-
turned his greeting with the same cordiality with which
it was given ; and I was forthwith saddled with Dart-
more's arm, and dragged up Bond-street, into that bor-
ough of all noisy, riotous, unrefined good fellows, yclept
's Hotel
Here we were soon plunged into a small, low apart-
ment, which Dartmore informed me was his room, and
which was crowded with a score of the most stalwart
youths that I ever saw out of a marching regiment.
Dartmore was still gloriously redolent of Oxford : his
companions were all extracts from Christ-church ; and his
favorite occupations were boxing and hunting — scenes
at the Fives' Courts — nights in the Cider Cellar — and
mornings at Bow-street. Figure to yourself a fitter
companion for the hero and writer of these adventures I
298 P£LHAM;OB,
The table was covered with boxing-gloves, single-sticks,
two ponderous pair of dumb-bells, a large pewter pot of
porter, and four foils ; one snapped in the middle.
" Well," cried Dartmore, to two strapping youths, with
their coats off, "which was the conqueror?"
"Oh, it is not yet decided," was the answer; and
forthwith the bigger one hit the lesser a blow with hia
boxing-glove, heavy enough to have felled Ulysses, who,
if I recollect aright, was rather " a game blood " in such
encounters.
This slight salute was forthwith the prelude to an en-
counter, which the whole train crowded round to witness ;
— I, among the rest, pretending an equal ardor, and an
equal interest, and hiding, like many persons in a similar
predicament, a most trembling spirit beneath a most
valorous exterior.
When the match (which terminated in favor ot the
lesser champion) was over, " Come, Pelham," said Dart-
more, " let me take up the gloves with you ? "
" You are too good I " said I, for the first time using
my drawing-room drawl. A wink and a grin went round
the room.
"Well, then, will you fence with Staunton, or play at
single-stick with me?" said the short, thick, bullying,
impudent, vulgar Earl of Calton.
"Why," answered I, "I am a poor hand at the foils,
and a still worse at the sticks ; but I have no objection
to exchange a cut or two at the latter with Lord Calton."
" No, no I " said the good-natured Dartmore ; — *' no f
ADVKNTUEES OF A GENTLEMAN. 299
Calton is the best stick-player I ever knew ; " and then
whispering me, he added, "and the hardest hitter — and
he never spares, either."
"Really," said I aloud, in my most affected tone, "it
is a great pity, for I am excessively delicate ; but as I
said I would engage him, I don't like to retract. Pray
let me look at the hilt : I hope the basket is strong : I
would not have my knuckles rapped for the world now
for it. I'm in a deuced fright, Dartmore ; " and so saying,
and inwardly chuckling at the universal pleasure depicted
in the countenances of Calton and the by-standers, who
were all rejoiced at the idea of the " dandy being drubbed,"
I took the stick, and pretended great awkwardness, and
lack of grace in the position I chose.
Calton placed himself in the most scientific attitude,
assuming at the same time an air of hauteur and non-
chalance, which seemed to call for the admiration it met.
"Do we allow hard hitting?" said I.
" Oh I by all means," answered Calton, eagerly.
"Well," said I, settling my own chapeau, "had not
you better put on your hat ? "
" Oh no," answered Calton, imperiously ; " I can take
pretty good care of my head ; " and with these words we
commenced.
I remained at first nearly upright, not availing myself
in the least of my superiority in height, and only acting
on the defensive. Calton played well enough for a gentle-
man ; but he was no match for one who had, at the age
of thirteen beat the Life Guardsmen at Angelo's. Sud-
800 pelham; or,
denly, when I had excited a general laugh at the clnms]^
success with which I warded off a most rapid attack of
Calton's, I changed my position, and keeping Calton at
arm's length till I had driven him towards a corner, I
took advantage of a hanghtj imprudence on his part, and,
by a common enough move in the game, drew back from
a stroke aimed at mj limbs, and suffered the whole weight
of my weapon to fall so heavily upon his head, that I
felled him to the ground in an instant.
I was sorry for the severity of the stroke the moment
after it was inflicted; but never was punishment more
deserved. We picked up the discomfited hero, and placed
him on a chair to recover his senses ; meanwhile I received
the congratulations of the conclave with a frank alteration
of manner which delighted them ; and I found it impos-
sible to get away till I had promised to dine with Dart«
more, and spend the rest of the evening in the society of
his friends.
ASTXNIUBKS 09 A aXNILIMAK 80)
CHAPTER XLIX.
Heroes mischieyously gay.
Lords of the street and terrors of the way,
Flnsh'd as they are with folly, youth, and wine.
Johnson's London,
Hot, NoTi hominem tanqnam te — his humor is lofty, his die-
eourse peremptory, his tongue filed, his eye ambitious, his gait
majestical, and his general behavior Tain, ridiculous, and thra-
sonical.— Shakspkake.
I WENT a little after seven o'clock to keep my dinner
engagement at 's ; for very young men are seldom
anpanctual at dinner. We sat down, six in number, to
a repast at once incredibly bad, and ridiculously extrava-
gant ; turtle without fat — venison without^ flavor —
champagne with the taste of a gooseberry, and hock with
the properties of a pomegranate.^ Such is the constant
habit of young men : they think anything expensive is
necessarily good, and they purchase poison at a dearer
rate than the most medicine-loving hypochondriac in
England 1
Of course, all the knot declared the dinner was superb;
called in the master to eulogize him in person, and made
him, to his infinite dismay, swallow a bumper of his own
hock. Poor man I they mistook his reluctance for his
* Which is not an astringent fruit.
L — 26
/
802 pelham; o&,
diffidence, and forcefl him to wash it away in another
potation. With many a wry face of grateful humility, he
left the room, and we then proceeded to pass the bottle
with the suicidal determination of defeated Romans.
You may imagine that we were not long in arriving at
the devoutly wished-for consummation of comfortable
inebriety; and with our eyes reeling, our cheeks burning,
and our brave spirits full ripe for a quarrel, we sallied out
at eleven o'clock, vowing death, dread, and destruction to
all the sober portion of his majesty's subjects.
We came to a dead halt in Arlington-street, which, as
it was the quietest spot in the neighborhood, we deemed
a fitting place for the arrangement of our forces. Dart-
more, Staunton (a tall, thin, well-formed, silly youth), and
myself, marched first, and the remaining three followed.
We gave each other the most judicious admonitions as to
propriety of conduct, and then, with a shout that alarmed
the whole street, we renewed our way. We passed on
safely enough till we got to Charing- Cross, having only
been thrice upbraided by the watchmen, and once threat-
ened by two carmen of prodigious size, to whose wives
or sweethearts we had, to our infinite peril, made some
gentle overtures. When, however, we had just passed
the Opera Colonnade, we were accosted by a bevy of
buxom Cyprians, as merry and as drunk as ourselves.
We halted for a few minutes in the midst of the kennel,
to confabulate with our new friends, and a very amicable
and intellectual conversation ensued. Dartmore wap an
adept in the art of slang, and he found himself fairly
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 303
matched, by more than one of the fair and gentle crea
tnres by whom we were surrounded. Just, however, as
we were all in high glee, Staunton made a trifling dis-
covery, which turned the merriment of the whole scene
into strife, war, and confusion. A bouncing lass, whose
hands were as ready as her charms, had quietly helped
herself to a watch which Staunton wore, d la mode, in
his waistcoat-pocket. Drunken as the youth was at that
time, and dull as he was at all others, he was not without
the instinctive penetration with which all human bipeds
watch over their individual goods and chattels. He
sprang aside from the endearments of the syren, grasped
hermrm, and in a voice of querulous indignation, accused
her of the theft.
«* Then rose the cry of women — shrill
As shriek of goshawk on the hill."
Never were my ears so stunned. The angry authors
in the adventures of Gil Bias were nothing to the dispu-
tants in the kennel at Charing- Cross ; we rowed, swore,
slanged, with a Christian meekness and forbearance which
would have rejoiced Mr. Wilberforce to the heart, and we
were already preparing ourselves for a more striking
engagement, when we were most unwelcomely interrupted
by the presence of three watchmen.
"Take away this — this — d d woman," hiccuped
out Staunton, " she has sto — len — (hiccup) — my watch "
— (hiccup).
" No such thing, watchman," hallooed out the accused,
" the b counter-skipper never had any watch I he
(
\
\
304 pelham; or,
only filched a twopenny-halfpenny gilt-chain out of his
master, Levi, the pawnbroker's window, and stack it in
his eel-sMn to make a show : ye did, ye pitifal, lanky-
chopped son of a dog-fish, ye did.*'
*^ Gome, come," said the watchman, " more on, move
on."
" Yon be d d, for a Charley 1 " said one of our
gang.
** Ho I ho I master jackanapes, I shall giye you a cool-
ing in the watch-house, if you tips us any of your jaw. I
dare say the young oman here, is quite right about ye,
and ye never had any watch at ail, at all."
" You are a liar I " cried Staunton ; " and you ai^ all
in with each other, like a pack of rogues as you are."
** I'll tell you what, young gemman," said another
watchman,* who was a more potent, grave, and reverend
signor than his comrades, "if you do not move on m-
stantly, and let those decent young omen alone, I'll take
you all up before Sir Richard."
" Charley, my boy," said Dartmore, " did you ever get
thrashed for impertinence ? "
The last-mentioned watchman took upon himself the
reply to this interrogatory by a very summary proceeding :
he collared Dartmore, and his companions did the same
kind office to us. This action was not committed with
impunity : in an instant two of the moon's minions, staffs,
lanterns, and all, were measuring their length at the foot
* The reader will remember that this work was written befora
the institution of the New Police.
ADYENTUBES OT A GENTLEMAN. 805
of their namesake of royal memory ; the remaining Dog-
berry was, however, a tougher assailant ; he held Stannton
so firmly in his gripe, that the poor youth could scarcely
breathe out a faint and feeble d — — ye of defiance, and
with his disengaged hand he made snch an admirable use
of his rattle, that we were surrounded in a trice.
As when an ant-hill is invaded, from every quarter and
crevice of the mound arise and pour out an angry host,
of whose previous existence the unwary assailant had not
dreamt; so from every lane, and alley, and street, and
crossing, came fast and far the champions of the night.
" Gentlemen," said Dartmore, " we must fly ; sauve qu%
petU,^^ We wanted no stronger admonition, and accord-
ingly, all of us who were able, set off with the utmost
velocity with which Ood had gifted us. I have some
faint recollection that I myself beaded the flight. I
remember well that I dashed up the Strand, and dashed
down a singular little shed, from which emanated the
steam of tea, and a sharp, querulous scream of "All hot
— all hot; a penny a pint." I see, now, by the dim light
of retrospection, a vision of an old woman in the kennel,
and a pewter pot of mysterious ingredients precipitated
into a greengrocer's shop, *'te viridea inter lauroSy^^ &8
Vincent would have said. On we went, faster and faster,
as the rattle rang in our ears, and the tramp of the enemy
echoed after us in hot pursuit.
" The devil take the hindmost," said Dartmore, breath-
lessly (as he kept up with me).
"The watchman has saved his majesty the trouble/'
24* u
206 pelham; ob,
answered I, looking back and seeing one of onr friends
in the clutch of the pursuers.
" On, on ! " was Dartmore's only reply.
At last, after innumerable perils, and varions immerse*
ments into back passages, and courts, and alleys, which,
like the chicaneries of law, preserved and befriended ns,
in spite of all the efforts of justice, we fairly fonnd our-
selves in safety in the midst of a great square
Here we paused, and after ascertaining onr individual
safeties, we looked round to ascertain the sum-total of
the general loss. Alas I we were wofnlly shorn of our
beams — we were reduced one-half: only three out of
the six survived the conflict and the flight.
" Half," (said the companion of Dartmore and myself,
whose name was Tringle, and who was a dabbler in
science, of which he was not a little vain) '* half is less
worthy than the whole ; but the half is more worthy than
nonentity."
"An axiom," said I, "not to be disputed; but now
that we are safe, and have time to think about it, are
you not slightly of opinion that we behaved somewhat
scurvily to our better half, in leaving it so quietly in the
hands of the Philistines ? ^
"By no means," answered Dartmore. "In a party,
whose members make no pretensions to sobriety, it would
be too hard to expect that persons who are scarcely
capable of taking care of themselves, should take care
of other people. No ; we have in all these exploits^
only the one maxim of self-preservation."
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 807
"Allow me," said Tringle, seizing me by the coat, " to
explain it to yoa od scientific principles. Yon will find,
in hydrostatics, that the attraction of cohesion is far less
powerful in fluids than in solids ; viz. that persons who
have been converting their ' solid flesh ' into wine-skins,
cannot stick so close to one another as when they are
sober."
" Bravo, Tringle I " cried Dartmore ; " and now, Pelham,
I hope yoar delicate scraples are, after so luminous an
iciaircissementf set at rest for ever."
"You have convinced me," said I; "let us leave the
unfortunates to their fate, and Sir Kichard. What is now
to be done ? "
** Why, in the first place," answered Dartmore, " let us
reconnoitre. Does any .one know this spot ? "
"Not I," said both of us. We inquired of an old
fellow, who was tottering home under the same Baccha-
nalian auspices as ourselves, and found we were in Lin-
coln's Inn Fields.
" Which shall we do ? " asked I, " stroll home ; or parade
the streets, visit the Gider-Gellar, and the Finish, and kiss
the first lass we meet in the morning bringing her charms
and carrots to Covent Garden Market?"
"The latter," cried Dartmore and Tringle, "without
doubt."
" Come, then," said. I, "let us investigate Holborn, and
dip into St. Giles's, and then find our way into some more
kn'^wn comer of the globe."
*' Amen I " said Dartmore, and accordingly we renewed
808 PEL ham; OB,
our march. We wound along a narrow lane, tolerably
well known, I imagine, to the gentlemen of the quill, and
entered Holborn. There was a beautiful still moon above
us, which cast its light over a drowsy stand of hackney
coaches, and shed a ' silver sadness ' over the thin visages
and sombre vestments of two guardians of the night, who
regarded us, we thought, with a very ominous aspect of
suspicion.
We strolled along, leisurely enough, till we were inter-
rupted by a miserable-looking crowd, assembled round a
dull, dingy, melancholy shop, from which gleamed a
solitary candle, whose long, spinster-like wick was flirting
away with an east wind, at a most unconscionable rate.
Upon the haggard and worn countenances of the by-stand-
ers, was depicted one general and sympathizing expression
of eager, envious, wistful anxiety, which predominated so
far over the various characters of each, as to communicate
something of a likeness to all. It was an impress of such
a seal as you might imagine, not the arch-fiend, but one
of his subordinate shepherds, would have set upon each
of his flock.
Amid this crowd, I recognized more than one face which
I had often seen in my equestrian lounges through town,
peering from the shoulders of some intrusive, ragamuffin,
wages-less lackey, and squalling out of its wretched, un«
pampered mouth, the everlasting query of* Want your
0S8 held, Sir ? " The rest were made up of unfortunate
women of the vilest and most ragged description, aged
itinerants, with features seared with famine, bleared eyes,
ADVENTURES OF A QBNILEMAN. 309
dropping jaws, shiveriog limbs, and all the mortal signs
of hopeless and aidless, and, worst of all, breadlessinfirmitj.
Here and there an Irish accent broke oat in the oaths of
Dational impatience, and was answered by the shrill, broken
▼oice of some decrepit bat indefatigable votaries of plea-
sure — (pleasure /) bat the chief character of the meeting
wsA silence; — silence, eager, heayy, engrossing; and,
above them all, shone oat the qaiet moon, so calm, so holj^
80 breathing of still happiness and nnpoUnted glory, as if
it never looked apon the traces of haman passion, and
misery, and sin. We stood for some moments contempla*
ting the gronp before as, and then, following the steps of
an old, withered crone, who, with a cracked cap in her
hand, was pashing her way throngh the throng, we fonnd
oarselves in that dreary pandsemoninm, at once the origin
and the refnge of hamble vices — a Qin-shop.
" Poor devils,'^ said Dartmore, to two or three of the
nearest and eagerest among the crowd, ** come in, and I
will treat yon."
The invitation was received with a promptness which
mast have been the most gratifying compliment to the
hiviter ; and thas Want, which is the mother of Invention,
does not object, now and then, to a bantling by Politeness.
We stood by the connter while our prot^gis were served,
in silent observation. In low vice, to me, there is always
something too gloomy, almost too fearful for light mirth ;
the contortions of the madman are stronger than those of
the fool, bat one does not langh at them ; the sympathy
\b for the caase — not the effect.
310 pelham; or,
Leaning against the counter at one corner, and fixing
his eyes deliberately and unmovinglj upon us, was a man
about the age of fifty, dressed in a costume of singular
fashion, apparently pretending to an antiquity of taste,
correspondent with that of the material. This person
wore a large cocked-hat, set rather jauntily on one side,
and a black coat, which seemed an omnium gatherum
of all abominations that had come in its way for the last
ten years, and which appeared to advance equal claims
(from the manner it was made and worn), to the several
dignities of the art military and civil, the arma and the
toga: — from the neck of the wearer hung a blue ribbon
of amazing breadth, and of a very surprising assumption
of newness and splendor, by no means in harmony with
the other parts of the tout ensemble ; this was the guardian
of an eye-glass of block tin, and of dimensions correspon-
dent with the size of the ribbon. Stuck under the right
arm, and shaped fearfully like a sword, peeped out the
hilt of a very large and sturdy-looking stick, ** in war a
weapon, in peace a support."
The features of the man were in keeping with his garb ;
they betokened an equal mixture of the traces of poverty,
and the assumption of the dignities reminiscent of a better
day. Two small light-blue eyes were shaded by bushy
and rather imperious brows, which lowered from under
the hat, like Cerberus out of his den. These, at present,
wore the dull, fixed stare of habitual intoxication, though
we were not long in discovering that they had rot yet
forgotten to sparkle with all the quickness, and more than
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 311
tne roguery of youth. His nose was large, prominent,
and aristocratic ; nor would it have been ill-formed, had
not some unknown cause pushed it a little nearer towards
the left ear, than would have been thought, by an equita-
ble judge of beauty, fair to the pretensions of the right.
The lines in the countenance were marked as if in iron,
and had the face been perfectly composed, must have
given to it a remarkably stern and sinister appearance ;
but at that moment there was an arch leer about the
mouth, which softened, or at least altered the expression
the features habitually wore.
" Sir,'* said he, (after a few minutes of silence,) " Sir,"
said he, approaching me, " will you do me the honor to
take a pinch of snuff? " and so saying he tapped a curious
copper box, with a picture of his late majesty upon it.
*' With great pleasure," answered I, bowing low, "since
the act is a prelude to the pleasure of your acquaintance."
My gentleman of the gin-shop opened his box with an
air, as he replied — "It is but seldom that I meet, in
places of this description, gentlemen of the exterior of
yourself and your friends. I am not a person very easily
deceived by the outward man. Horace, sir, could not
have incHided me, when he said, Specie dedpimur. I
perceive that you are surprised at hearing me quote Latin.
Alas I sir, in my wandering and various manner of life f
may say, with Cicero and Pliny, that the study of letters
had proved my greatest consolation. * Gaudium mihi,^
says the latter author, ' et solatium in Uteris : nihil tarn
lastum quod his nan latius, nihil tam triste quod non per
812 pelham; ORy
has sU minus triste,^ G — d d — n ye, you scoundrel, give
me my gin I ar'n't you ashamed of keeping a gentleman of
my fashion so long waiting?"
This was said to the sleepy dispenser of the spiritnoas
potations, who looked up for a moment with a dull stare,
and then replied, '* Your money first, Mr. Gordon — you
owe us seven-pence halfpenny already."
" Blood and confusion I speakest thou to me of half-
pence 1 Know that thou art a mercenary varlet ; yes,
knave, mark that, a mercenary varlet." The sleepy
Ganymede replied not, and the wrath of Mr. Gordon sub-
sided into a low, interrupted, internal muttering of strange
oaths, which rolled and grumbled, and rattled in his throat,
like distant thunder.
At length he cheered up a little — "Sir," said he, ad-
dressing Dartmore, " it is a sad thing to be dependent on
these low persons ; the wise among the ancients were never
BO wrong as when they panegyrized poverty : it is the
the wicked man's tempter, the good man's perdition, the
proud man's curse, the melancholy man's halter.^^
" You are a strange old cock," said the unsophisticated
Dartmore, eyeing him from head to foot; "there's half
a sovereign for you."
The blunt blue eyes of Mr. Gordon sharpened up in an
instant ; he seized the treasure with an avidity of which,
the minute after, he seemed somewhat ashamed ; for he
said, playing with the coin 'in an idle, indifferent manner
— " Sir, you show a consideration, and, let me add, sir. a
delicacy of feeling, unusual at your years. Sir. I snail
r
ADVENTUKES OF A GENTLEMAN. 313
repay you at my earliest leisure, and in the meanwhile
allow me to say, that I shall be proud of the honor of
your acquaintance."
"Thank-ye, old boy," said Dartmore, putting on his
glove before he accepted the offered hand of his new friend,
which, though it was tendered with great grace and dignity,
was of a maryellously dingy and soapless aspect.
" Harkye, you d — d son of a gun 1 " cried Mr. Gordon,
abruptly turning from Dartmore, after a hearty shake of
the hand, to the man at the counter — " Harkye I give me
change for this half-sovereign, and be d — d to you — and
then tip us a double gill of your best ; you whey-faced,
liver-drenched, pence-griping, belly-griping, pauper-cheat-
ing, sleepy-souled Arismanes of bad spirits. Come, gen-
tlemen, if you have nothing better to do, I'll take you to
my club ; we are a rare knot of us, there — all choice
spirits ; some of them are a little uncouth, it is true, but
we are not all born Chesterfields. Sir, allow me to ask
the favour of your name ? "
** Dartmore."
" Mr. Dartmore, you are a gentleman. Hollo I you
Liquorpond'Street of a scoundrel — having nothing of
liquor but the name, you narrow, nasty, pitiful alley of a
fellow, with a kennel for a body, and a sink for a soul ;
give me my change and my gin, you scoundrel ! Humph,
is that all right, you Procrustes of the counter, chopping
our lawful appetites down to your rascally standard of
seven-pence halfpenny ? Why don't you take a motto,
you Paynim dog f Here's one for you — ' Measure for
1.— 2t
314
PELHAM.
measure, and the devil to pay!' Humph, you pitiful
toadstool of a trader, you have no more spirit than an
empty water-bottle ; and when you go to h — II, they'll
use you to cool the bellows. I say, you rascal, why are
you worse off than the devil in a hip-bath of brimstone ?
— because, you knave, the devil then would only be half
d — d, and you're d — d all over I Gome, gentlemen, I
am at your service."
I
f
ADYSNTURXS OJ A a£KTLEMAN. 315
CHAPTER L.
The history of a philosophical yagabond, pursuing noyeltj, and
losing content. — Vicar of Wakefield,
We followed onr strange friend through the crowd at
the door, which he elbowed on either side with the most
aristocratic disdain, perfectly regardless of their jokes at
his dress and manner; he no sooner got through the
throng, than he stopped short (though in the midst of the
kennel) and offered us his arm. This was an honor of
which we were by no means desirous ; for, to say nothing
of the shabbiness of Mr. Gordon's exterior, there was a
certain odor in his garments which was possibly less dis-
pleasing to the wearer than to his acquaintance. Accord-
ingly, we pretended not to notice this invitation, and
merely said, we would follow his guidance.
He turned up a narrow street, and after passing some
of tne most ill-favored alleys I ever had the happiness of
816 FELHAH; OB.,
beholding, he stopped at a low door ; here he knocked
twice, and was at last admitted by a slip-shod, yawning
wench, with red arms and a profusion of sandy hair. This
Hebe, Mr. Gordon greeted with a loving kiss, which the
kissee resented in a very unequivocal strain of disgustful
reproach.
"Hush I my Queen of Clubs; my Sultana Sootina!"
said Mr. Gordon ; " hush ! or these gentlemen will think
you in earnest. I have brought three new customers to
the club."
This speech somewhat softened the incensed Houri of
Mr. Gordon's Paradise, and she very civilly asked us to
enter.
" Stop I " said Mr. Gordon with an air of importance,
"I must just step in and ask the gentlemen to admit
you ; — merely a form — for a word from me will be quite
sufficient." And so saying, he vanished for about ^re
minutes.
On his return, he said, with a cheerful countenance,
that we were free of the house, but that we must pay a
shilling each as the customary fee. This sum was soon
collected, and quietly inserted in the waistcoat-pocket of
our chaperon, who then conducted us up the passage into
a small, back room, where were sitting about seven or
eight men, enveloped in smoke, and moistening the fever
of the Virginian plant with various preparations of malt.
On entering, I observed Mr. Gordon deposit, at a sort of
bar, the sum of threepence, by which I shrewdly surmised
he had gained the sum of two and ninepence by our
H
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 317
admission. With a very arrogant air, he proceeded to
the head of the table, sat himself down with a swagger
and called out, like a lusty roisterer of the true kidney,
for a pint of purl and a pipe Not to be out of fashion,
we ordered the same articles of luxury.
After we had all commenced a couple of puffs at our
pipes, I looked round at our fellow-guests ; they seemed
in a very poor state of body, as *might naturally be sup-
posed ; and, in order to ascertain how far the condition
of the mind was suited to that of the frame, I turned
round to Mr. Gordon, and asked him in a whisper to give
us a few hints as to the genus and characteristics of the
individual components of his club. Mr. Gordon declared
himself delighted with the proposal, and we all adjourned
to a separate table at the corner of the room, where Mr.
Gordon, after a deep draught at the purl, thus began : —
"You observe yon thin, meagre, cadaverous animal,
with rather an intelligent and melancholy expression of
countenance — his name is Chitterling Crabtree : his
father was an eminent coal-merchant, and left him 10,-
OOOZ. Crabtree turned politician. When fate wishes to
ruin a man of moderate abilities and moderate fortune,
she makes him an orator. Mr. Chitterling Crabtree
attended all the meetings at the Crown and Anchor —
subscribed to the aid of the suffering friends of freedom
— harangued, argued, sweated, wrote — was lined arid
imprisoned — regained his liberty, and married — his wife
loved a community of goods no less than her spouse, and
ran off with one citizen, while he was running on to the
27*
818 pelham; OB,
others. Chitterling dried his tears ; and contented bim«
self wHh the reflection, that ' in a proper state of things,'
such an event could not have occurred.
" Mr. Crabtree's money and life were now half gone.
One does not subscribe to the friends of freedom and
spout at their dinners for nothing. Bat the worst drop
was yet in the cup. An undertaking of the most spirited
and promising nature, was conceived by the chief of the
friends, and the dearest familiar of Mr. Chitterling Crab-
tree. Our worthy embarked his fortune in a speculation
so certain of success ; — crash went the speculation, and
off went the friend — Mr. Crabtree was ruined. He was
not, however, a man to despair at trifles. What were
bread, meat, and beer to the champion of equality I He
went to the meeting that very night : he said he gloried
in his losses — they were for the cause : the whole con-
clave rang with shouts of applause, and Mr. Chitterling
Crabtree went to bed happier than ever. I need not
pursue his history farther; you see him here — verbum
sap. He spouts at the 'Ciceronian,' for half a crown
a-night, and to this day subscribes siixpence a-week to the
cause of 'liberty and enlightenment all over the world.' "
** By heaven 1 " cried Dartmore, '* he is a fine fellow,
and my father shall do something for him."
Gordon pricked up his ears, and continued, — " Now,
for the second person, gentlemen, whom I am about to
describe to you. You see that middle-sized, stout man,
with a slight squint, and a restless, lowering, cunning
expression ? "
ABYENTUBES OF A aENTLEMAN. 3U
"WbatI him in the kerseymere breeches and green
jacket?" said I.
" The same," answered Gordon. " His real name, when
he does not travel with an alias, is Job Jonson. He is
one of the most remarkable rogaes in Christendom ; he
is so noted a cheat, that there is not a pickpocket in
England who would keep company with him if he had
anything to lose. He was the favorite of his father, who
ntended to leave him all his fortune, which was tolerably
large. He robbed him one day on the high road ; his
father discovered it,* and disinherited him. He was placed
at a merchant's office, and rose, step by step, to be head
clerk, and intended son-in-law. Three nights before his
marriage, he broke open the till, and was turned out of
loors the next morning. If you were going to do him
the greatest favor in the world, he could not keep his
aands out of your pocket till you had done it. In short,
be has rogued himself out of a dozen fortunes, and a
Aundred friends, and managed, with incredible dexterity
and success, to cheat himself into beggary and a pot of
beer."
" I beg your pardon," said I, " but I think a sketch of
your own life must be more amusing than that of any one
else : am I impertinent in asking for it ? "
"Not at all," replied Mr. Gordon ; "you shall have it
in as few words as possible.
"I was born a gentleman, and educated with some
;)ain8 ; they told me I was a genius, and it was not verv
^ard to persuade me of the truth of the assertion. I
32C PELHAM; OB,
wrote verses to a wonder — robbed orchards according
to military tactics — never played at marbles without
explaining to my competitors the theory of attraction —
and was the best-informed, most mischievous, little rascal
in the whole school. My family were in great doubt what
to do with so prodigious a wonder ; one said the law,
another the church, a third talked of diplomacy, and a
fourth assured my mother, that if I could but be intro-
duced at court, I should be lord chamberlain in a twelve-
month. While my friends were deliberating, I took the
liberty of deciding: I enlisted, in a fit of loyal valor, in
a marching regiment ; my friends made the best of a bad
job, and bought me an ensigncy.
" I recollect I read Plato the night before I went to
battle ; the next morning they told me I ran away. I
am sure it was a malicious invention, for if I had, I should
have recollected it ; whereas, I was in such a confusion
that I cannot remember a single thing that happened in
the whole course of that day. About six months after-
wards, I found myself out of the army, and in gaol ; and
no sooner had my relations released me from the latter
predicament, than I set oflF on my travels. At Dublin, I
lost my heart to a rich widow (as I thought) ; I married
her, and found her as poor as myself. Heaven knows
what would have become of me, if I had not taken to
drinking ; my wife scorned to be outdone by me in any
thing ; she followed my example, and at the end of a year
I followed her to the grave. Since then I have taken
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 321
warning, and been scrupulously sober —Betty, my love,
another pint of purl.
" I was now once more a freeman in the prime of my
life ; handsome, as you see, gentlemen, and with the
strength and spirit of a young Hercules. Accordingly
I dried my tears, turned marker by night at a gambling
house, and buck by day, in Bond-street (for I had returned
to London). I remember well one morning, that his
present Majesty was pleased, eyi passant, to admire my
buckskins — tempera mutantur. Well, gentlemen, one
night at a brawl in our salon, my nose met with a rude
hint to move to the right. I went, in a great panic, to
the surgeon, who mended the matter by moving it to the
left. There, thank God I it has rested in quiet ever since.
It is needless to tell you the nature of the quarrel in which
this accident occurred ; however, my friends thought it
necessary to remove me from the situation I then held.
I went once more to Ireland, and was introduced to ' a
friend of freedom.' I was poor; that circumstance is
quite enough to make a patriot. They sent me to Paris
on a secret mission, and when I returned, my friends were
in prison. Being always of a free disposition, I did not
envy them their situation: accordingly I returned to
England Halting at Liverpool, with a most debilitated
purse, I went into a silversmith's shop to brace it, and
about six months afterwards, I found myself on a marine
excursion to Botany Bay. On my return from that
country, I resolved to turn my literary talents to account.
I went to Cambridge, wrote declamations, and translated
322 PELHAM; OR,
Virgil at so much a sheet. My relations (thanks to my
letters, neither few nor far between) soon found me out ;
they allowed me (they do so still) half a guinea a week ;
and upon this and my declamations I manage to exist.
Ever since, my chief residence has been at Cambridge.
I am an universal favorite with both graduates and urder-
graduates. I have reformed my life and my manners, and
have become the quiet, orderly person you behold me.
Age tames the fiercest of us —
«i t
Non sum qualis eram.'
" Betty, bring me my purl, and be d — d to you.
" It is now vacation time, and I have come to town
with the idea of holding lectures on the state of educa-
tion. Mr. Dartmore, your health. Gentlemen, yours.
My story is done, — and I hope you will pay for the purl."*
* Poor Jemmy Gordon — thou art no more ! The stones of Cam-
bridge no longer prate of thy whereabout 1 — Death hath reiroved
thee ; — may it not be to that bourne where alone thy oaths can be
outdone I He was indeed a singular character, that Jemmy Gor-
don, as many a generation of Cantabs can attest I — His long stick
and his cocked hat — and his tattered Lucretius, and his mighty
eye-glass, how familiarly do they intermingle with our recollections
of Trinity and of Trumpington Streets I If I have rightly heard,
his death was the consequence of a fractured limb. Laid by the
leg in a lofty attic, his spirit was not tamed ; — the noises he mstde
were astounding to the last. — The grim foe carried him off in a
whirlwind of slang I I do not say ^ Peace to his manes,' for quiet
v/ould be the worst hell that could await him: — and heaven itself
would be torture to Jemmy Gordon, if he were not allowed *c
Bwear in it I — l^oisiest of reprobates, fare thee well! — H. P.
▲ DYSNTUBES OF A QENTLEMAM. 823
CHAPTER LI.
I liate a drunken rogue. — Twelfth NighU
We took an affectionate leave of Mr. Gordon, and
found ourselves once more in the open air; the smoke
and the purl had contributed greatly to the continuance
of our inebriety, and we were as much averse to bed as
ever. We conveyed ourselves, laughing and rioting all
the way, to a stand of hackney-coaches. We entered
the head of the flock, and drove to Piccadilly. It set us
down at the comer of the Haymarket.
" Past two I " cried the watchman, as we sauntered by
him.'
"You lie, you rascal," said I, "you have passed three
now."
We were all merry enough to laugh at this sally ; and
seeing a light gleam from the entrance of the Royal
Saloon, we knocked at the door, and it was opened unto
us. We sat down at the only spare table in the place,
and looked round at the smug and varmint citizens with
whom the room was filled.
" Hollo, waiter I " cried Tringle, " some red wine negus
— I know not why it is, but the devil himself could never
cure me of thirst. Wine and I have a most chemical
attraction for each other. You know that we always
324 PELHAM; OB,
estimate the force of attraction between bodies by the
force required to separate them ! "
While we were all three as noisy and nonsensical as
our best friends could have wished us, a new stranger
entered, approached, looked round the room for a seat,
and seeing none, walked leisurely up to our table, and
accosted me with a — " Ha I Mr. Pelham, how d'ye do ?
Well met ; by your leave I will sip my grog at your table.
No offence I hope — more the merrier, eh ? — Waiter, a
glass of hot brandy and water — not too weak. D'ye
hear ? "
Need I say that this pithy and pretty address proceeded
from the mouth of Mr. Tom Thornton ? He was some-
what more than half drunk, and his light, prying eyes
twinkled dizzily in his head. Dartmore, who was, and
is, the best-natured fellow alive, hailed the signs of his
intoxication as a sort of freemasonry, and made way for
him beside himself. I could not help remarking, that
Thornton seemed singularly less sleek than heretofore :
his coat was out at the elbows, his linen was torn and
soiled ; there was not a vestige of the vulgar spruceness
about him which was formerly one of his most prominent
characteristics. He had also lost a great deal of the
florid health formerly visible in his face ; his cheeks seemed
sunk and haggard, his eyes hollow, and his complexion
gallow and squalid, in spite of the flush which intemper-
ance spread over it at the moment. However, he was in
high spirits, and soon made himself so entertaining that
Dartmore and Tringle grew charmed with him.
ADVENTURES OP A GENTLEMAN. 325
As for me, the antipathy I had to the man sobered and
silenced me for the rest of the night ; and finding that
I>artmore and his friend were eager for an introduction
to some female friends of Thornton's, whom he mentioned
in terms of high praise, I tore myself from them, and
made the best of mj way home.
CHAPTER LII.
rii mors gravis incubat
Qai, notus nimis omnibus,
Ignotus moritur sibi. — Ssnsoa.
•
Nous serons par nos lois les juges des ouyrages.
Lit Femmet 8avanU9.
Whilst we do speak, our fire
Doth into ice expire ;
Flames turn to frost.
And, ere we can
Know how our crow turns swan.
Or how a silver snow
Springs there, where jet did grow.
Our fading spring is in dull winter lost
Jaspar Matnb.
T INOENT called on me the next day. " I hare news
for you," said he, "though somewhat of a lugubrious
nature. Lugete Veneres Gupidinesque / You remember
the Duchesse de Perpignan ? "
" I should think so,'' was my answer.
** Well, then," pursued Vincent, "she is no more. Her
L— 28
H2G P£LHAM; OB,
death was worthy of her life. She was to give a biilliant
entertainment to all the foreigners at Paris: the day
before it took place, a dreadful eruption broke out on her
complexion. She sent for the doctors in despair. * G*-ire
me against to-morrow,' she said, 'and name your own
reward.' 'Madame, it is impossible to do so with safety
to your health.' *Au diable with your health I " said the
Duchesse ; * what is health to an eruption ? ' The doctors
took the hint; an external application was used — the
Duchesse woke in the morning as beautiful as ever — the
entertainment took place — she was the Arraida of the
scene. Supper was announced. She took the arm of the
■ ambassador, and moved through the crowd amidst
the audible admiration of all. She stopped for a moment
at the door; all eyes were upon her. A fearful and
ghastly convulsion passed over her countenance, her lips
trembled, she fell on the floor with the most terrible
contortions of face and frame. They carried her to bed.
She remained for some days insensible ; when she recov-
ered, she asked for a looking-glass. Her whole face was
drawn on one side ; not a wreck of beauty was left ; —
that night she poisoned herself 1"
I cannot express how shocked I was at this information.
Much as I had cause to be disgusted with the conduct of
that unhappy woman, I could find in my mind no feeling
but commiseration and horror at her death ; and it was
with great difficulty that Vincent persuaded me to accept
an invitation to Lady Roseville's for the evening, to meet
Olanville and himself.
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 32*!
However, I cheered up as the night came on ; ana
though mj mind was still haunted with the tale of the
morning, it was neither in a masing nor a melancholy
mood that I entered the drawing-room at Lady Rose*
ville's — " So runs the world away I "
Olanville was there in his customary mourning.
" Pelham," he said, when he joined me, " do you remem-
ber at Lady 's one night, I said I would introduce
you to my sister ? I had no opportunity then, for we left
the house before she returned from the refreshment-room.
May I do so nowf
I need not say what was my answer. I followed Glan«
Tille into the next room ; and, to my inexpressible aston-
ishment and delight, discovered in his sister the beautiful,
the never forgotten stranger I had seen at Cheltenham.
For once in my life I was embarrassed — my bow would
have shamed a major in the line, and my stuttered and
irrelevant address, an alderman in the presence of His
Majesty. However, a few moments sufficed to recover me,
and I strained every nerve to be as agreeable as possible.
After I had conversed with Miss Glanville for some
time. Lady Roseville joined us. Stately and Juno-like,
as was that charming personage in general, she relaxed
into a softness of manner to Miss Glanville, that quite
won my heart. She drew her to a part of the room,
where a very animated and chiefly literary conversation
was going on — and I, resolving to make the best of my
time, followed them, and once more found myself seated
beside Miss Glanville. Lady Roseville was on the other
328 peluam; ob,
Bide of my beautiful companion ; and I observed tbat,
whenever she took her eyes from Miss Glanville, they
always rested upon her brother, who, in the midst of the
disputation and the disputants, sat silent, gloomy, and
absorbed.
The conversation turned upon Scott's novels ; thence
on novels in general ; and finally on the particular one of
Anastasias.
" It is a thousand pities," said Vincent, " that the scene
of that novel is so far removed from us. But it is a great
misfortune for Hope that —
* To learning he narrowed his mind,
And gave up to the Ecut what was meant for mankind/
One often loses, in admiration at the knowledge of pecu
liar costume, the deference one would have paid to the
masterly grasp of universal character."
" It must require," said Lady Roseville, ** an extraor-
dinary combination of mental powers to produce a perfect
novel.",
"One so extraordinary," answered' Vincent, "that,
though we have one perfect epic poem, and several which
pretend to perfection, we have not one perfect novel in
the world.* Gil Bias approaches more to perfection than
any other ; but it must be confessed that there is a want
of dignity, of moral rectitu(ie, and of wbat I may term
moral beauty, throughout the whole book. If an author
could combine the various excellencies of Scott and Le
* For Don Quixote is not what Lord Vincent terms a novtl, vii.,
th« actual representation of real life.
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 32^
Sage, with a greater and more metaphysical knowledge
of morals than either, we might expect from him the
perfection we have not yet discovered since the days of
Apuleius."
*' Speaking of morals," said Lady Roseville, "do you
not think every novel should have its distinct object, and
inculcate, throughout, some one peculiar moral, such as
many of MarmontePs and Miss Edgeworth's ? "
" No I " answered Vincent ; " every good novel has one
great end — the same in all — viz. the increasing our
knowledge of the heart. It is thus that a novel-writer
must be a philosopher. Whoever succeeds in showing
us more accurately the nature of ourselves and species,
has done science, and, consequintly, virtue, the most im-
portant benefit ; for every trft^h is a moral. This great
and universal end, I am led to imagine, is rather crippled
than extended by the rigorous attention to the one isolated
moral you mention.
" Thus Dryden, in his Essay on the Progress of Satire,
very rightly prefers Horace to Juvenal, so far as instruc*
Hon is concerned ; because the miscellaneous satires of
the former are directed against every vice — the more
confined ones of the latter (for the most part) only against
one. All mankind is the field the novelist should culti-
vate— all truth, the moral he should strive to bring home.
It is in occasional dialogue, in desultory maxims, in deduc-
tions from events, in analysis of character, that he should
benefit and instruct. It is not enough — and I wish a
certain novelist who has lately arisen would remember
28*
330 pelham; ob,
this — it is not enough for a writer to have a good heart,
amiable sympathies, and what are termed high feelings,
in order to shape out a moral, either true in itself, or
beneficial in its inculcation. Before he touches his tale,
he should be thoroughly acquainted with the intricate
science of morals, and the metaphysical, as well as the
more open, operations of the mind. If his knowledge is
not deep and clear, his love of the good may only lead
him into error ; and he may pass off the prejudices of a
susceptible heart for the precepts of virtue. Would to
Heaven that people would think it necessary to be in-
structed before they attempt to instruct ! *Dire simple-
ment que la vertu est vertu parce qu'elle est bonne en
son fondSf et le vice touk au contraire, ce n'est pas les
/aire connoUre. ' For me, if I were to write a novel, I
would first make myself an acute, active, and vigilant
observer of men and manners. Secondly, I would, after
having thus noted effects by action in the world, trace the
causes by books, and meditation in my closet. It is then,
and not till then, that I would study the lighter graces of
style and decoration ; nor would I give the rein to inven-
tion, till I was convinced that it would create neither
monsters of men, nor falsities of truth. For my vehicles
of instruction or amusement, I would have people as they
are — .neither worse nor better — and the moral they
should convey, should be rather through jest or irony,
than gravity and seriousness. There never was an imper-
fection corrected by portraying perfection ; and if levity
and ridicule be said so easily to allure to sin, I do not see
iDVENTUEES OF A GENTLEMAN. 331
V Kj tkey should not be used in defence of virtue. Of
thv we mftj be sure, that as laughter is a distinct indica-
tion of the human race, so there never. was a brute mind
or » savage heart that loved to indulge in it." ^
Vincent ceased.
"Thank you, my lord," said Lady Roseville, as she
took Miss Qlanville's arm and moved from the table.
" For once you have condescended to give us your own
sense, and not other people's ; you have scarce made a
single quotation."
"Accept," answered Vincent rising,
** 'Accept a miracle instead of wit.* *
♦ The Sage of Malmesbary expresses a very different opinion of
the philosophy of laughter, and, for my part, I think his doctrine,
in great measnre, though not altogether — true. See Hobbes on
Human Nature, and the answer to him in CampbelVi Rhetoric*'-^
S32 pikhah;
CHAPTER LIII.
Oh! I love! — Methinks
This word of love is fit for all the world,
And that, for gentle hearts, another name
Should speak of gentler thoughts than the world owns.
B. Shbllkt.
For me, I ask no more than honor gives,
To think me yours, and rank me with your friends.
Shakspbabi.
Callous and worldly as I may seem, from the tone of
these memoirs, I can say, safely, that one of the most
delicious evenings I ever spent, was the first of my intro-
duction to Miss Glanville. I went home intoxicated with
a subtle spirit of enjoyment that gave a new zest and
freshness to life. Two little hours seemed to have changed
the whole course of my thoughts and feelings.
There was nothing about Miss Glanville like a heroine
— I hate your heroines. She had none of that " modest
ease," and " quiet dignity," of which certain writers si>eak
with such applause. Thank Heaven, she was alive I She
had great sense, but the playfulness of a child ; extreme
rectitude of mind, but with the tenderness of a gazelle :
if she laughed, all her countenance, lips, eyes, forehead,
cheeks, laughed too : " Paradise seemed opened in her
face : " if she looked grave, it was such a lofty and up-
ward, yet sweet and gentle gravity, that you might (had
adventttbes of a gentleman. 333
you been gifted with the least imagination) have supposed,
from the model of her countenance, a new order of angels
between the cherabim and the seraphim, the angels of
Love and Wisdom. She was not, perhaps, quite so silent
in society as mj individual taste would desire ; but when
she spoke, it was with a propriety of thought and diction
which made me lament when her voice had ceased. It
was as if something beautiful in creation had stopped
suddenly.
Enough of this now. I was lazily turning (the morn-
ing after Lady Roseville's) over some old books, when
Yincent entered. I observed that his face was flushed,
and his eyes sparkled with more than their usual brilliancy.
He looked carefully round the room, and then, approach-
ing his chair towards mine, said, in a low tone —
" Pelham, I have something of importance on ray mind
which I wish to discuss with you ; but let me intreat you
to lay aside your usual levity, and pardon me if I say
affectation ; meet me .with the candor and plainness which
are the real distinctions of your character."
" My Lord Vincent," I replied ; " there are, in your
words, a depth and solemnity which pierce me, through
one of N 's best stuffed coats, even to the very heart
I will hear you as you desire, from the alpha to the omega
of your discourse."
" My dear friend," said Yincent, " I .have often seen
that, in spite of all your love of pleasure, you have your
mind continually turned towards higher and graver ob-
jects , and I have thought the better of your talents, and
334 PELHAM; OR,
of your future success, for the little parade you make ot
the one, and the little care you appear to pay to the
other: for
* His a common proof,
That lowliness is young Ambition's ladder.'
I have also observed that you have, of late, been much
to Lord Dawton's ; I have even heard that you have been
twice closeted with him. It is well known that that person
entertains hopes of leading the opposition to the graJta
arva of the Treasury benches ; and notwithstanding the
years in which the Whigs have been out of office, there
are some persons who pretend to foresee the chance of a
coalition between them and Mr. Gaskell, to whose prin-
ciples it is also added that they have been gradually
assimilating."
Here Vincent paused a moment, and looked full at me.
I met his eye with a glance as searching as his own. His
look changed, and he continued.
" Nov listen to me, Pelham : ^ch a coalition never
can take place. Xou smile : I repeat it. It is my object
to form a third party ; perhaps, while the two great sects
' anticipate the cabinet designs of fate,' there may sud-
denly come by a third, * to whom the whole shall be re-
ferred.' Say that you think it not impossible that you
may join us, and I will tell you more."
I paused for three minutes before I answered Vincent.
I then said — " I thank you very sincerely for your pro-
posal : tell me the names of two of your designed partjp
and I will answei you."
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 335
"Lord Lincolu and Lord Lesborough."
" What I " said I — " the Whig, who says in the Upper
House, that whatever may be the distresses of the people,
they shall not be gratified at the cost of one of the des-
potic privileges of the aristocracy. Go to I — I will have
none of him. As to Lesborough, he is a fool and a
boaster — who is always puffing his own vanity with the
windiest pair of oratorical bellows that ever were made
by air and brass, for the purpose of sound and smoke,
* signifying nothing. ' Go to ! — I will have none of him
either."
" You are right in your judgment of my confrhre^p
answered Yincent ; '' but we must make use of bad tools
for good purposes."
"No — nol" said I; "the commonest carpenter will
tell you the reverse."
Yincent eyed me suspiciously. " Look you ! " said h« :
" I know well that no man loves, better than you, place,
power, and reputation. Do you grant this ? "
"I do," was my reply.
" Join with us ; I will place you in the House of Com-
mons immediately : if we succeed, you shall have the first
and the best post I can give you. Now — ' under which
king, Bezonian, speak or die ! ' "
" I answer you in the words of the same worthy you
quote," said I — "'A foutra for thine office.' — Do you
know, Yincent, that I have, strange as it may seem to you,
such a thing as a conscience ? It is true I forget it now
and then ; but in a public capacity, the recollection of
836 pelham; or.
others would put me very soon in mind of it. I know
your party well. I cannot imagine — forgive me — ono
more injurious to the country, nor one more revolting to
myself; and I do positively affirm, that I would sooner
feed my poodle on paunch and liver, instead of cream and
fricassee, than to be an instrument in the hands of men
like Lincoln and Lesborough ; who talk much, who per-
form nothing — who join ignorance of every principle of
legislation to indifference for every benefit to the people ;
— who are full of 'wise saws,' but eppty of 'modern
instances' — who level upwards, and trample downwards
— - and would only value the ability you are pleased to
impute to me, in the exact proportion that a sportsman
values the ferret, that burrows for his pleasure, and de-
stroys for his interest. Your party can't stand 1 "
Vincent turned pale — **And how long," said he, " have
you learnt 'the principles of legislation,' and this mighty
affection for the ' benefit of the people ? ' "
" Ever since," said I, coldly, " I learnt any thing I The
first piece of real knowledge I ever gained was, that my
interest was incorporated with that of the beings with
whom I had the chance of being cast : if I injure them, I
injure myself : if I can do them any good, I receive the
benefit in common with the rest. Now, as I have a great
love for that personage who has now the honor of address-
ing you, I resolved to be honest for his sake. So much
for my affection for the benefit of the people. As to the
little knowledge of the principles of legislation, on which
you are kind enough to compliment me, look over tn«
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 331
books on this table, or the writings in this desk, and know,
that ever since I had the misfortune of parting from yon
at Cheltenham, there has not been a day in which I have
spent less than six hours reading and writing on that sole
fcnbject. But enough of this — will you ride to-day 1 "
Vincent rose slowly —
***Gli arditi (said he) tuoi voti
Gid* notl mi sono;
Ma invano a quel trono,
Tu aspiri con me:
Trema per te I * "
"*7o trema? (I replied out of the same opera) — *Io
trema — di te/"'
" Well," answered Vincent, and his fine high nature
overcame his momentary resentment and chagrin at my
rejection of his offer — "Well, I honor you for your sen-
timents, though they are opposed to my own. I may
depend on your secrecy ? "
"You may," said I.
" I forgive you, Pelham," rejoined Vincent : " we part
friends."
"Wait one moment," said I, "and pardon me, if I.
venture to speak in the language of caution to one in
every way so superior to myself. No one (I say this with
a safe conscience, for I never flattered my friend in my life,
though I have often adulated my. enemy) — no one has a
greater admiration for your talents than myself; I desire
eagerly to see you in the station most fit for their display :
pause one moment before you link yourself, not only to a
I. — 29 W
838 PELHAM; OB,
party, bnt to principles that cannot stand. Yoa have
only to exert yourself, and you may either lead the oppo-
sition, or be among the foremost in the administration.
Take something certain, rather than what is doubtful ; or
at least stand alone : — such is my belief in your powers,
if fairly tried, that if you were not united to those men,
I would promise you faithfully to stand or fall by you
alone,, even if we had not through all England another
soldier to our standard ; but "
" I thank you, Pelham," said Vincent, interrupting me :
^^till we meet in public as enemies, we are friends in priyate
— I desire no more. Farewell."
CHAPTER LIV.
n yaat mieaz employer notre esprit ft supporter les infortunes
qai nous arriTent, qu*^ pr^Toir celles qui nous peuvent arriyer.
RoCHEFOUCArLT.
No sooner had Vincent departed than I buttoned my
coat, and sallied out through a cold easterly wind to Lord
Dawton's. It was truly said by the political quoter, that
I had been often to that nobleman's, although I hare not
thought it advisable to speak of my political adventures
hitherto. I have before said that I was ambitious ; and
the sagacious have probably already discovered, that I
was somewhat less ignorant than it was my usual pride
ADVENTURES OF A QENTELMAN. 339
and pleasure to appear. I had established, among mv
uncle's friends, a reputation for talent ; and no sooner had
I been personally introduced to Lord Dawton, than I
found myself courted by that personage in a manner
equally gratifying and uncommon. When I lost my seat
in Parliament, Dawton assured me that, before the session
was over, I should be returned for one of his boroughs ;
and though my mind revolted at the idea of becoming
dependent on any party, I made little scruple of promising
conditionally to ally myself to his. So far had affairs
gone, when I was honored with Vincent's proposal. I
found Lord Dawton in Kis library, with the Marquis of
Glandonald (Lord Dartmore's father, and, from his rank
and property, classed among the highest, as, from hig
vanity and restlessness, he was among the most active,
members of the Opposition). Glandonald left the room
when I entered. Few men in office are wise enough to
trust the young ; as if the greater zeal and sincerity of
youth did not more than compensate for its appetite for
the gay, or its thoughtlessness of the serious.
When we were alone, Dawton said to me, " We are in
great despair at the motion upon the , to be made
in the Lower House. We have not a single person whom
we can depend upon, for the sweeping and convincing
answer we ought to make ; and though we should at least
muster our full force in voting, our whipper-in, poor ,
is so ill that I fear we shall make but a very pitiful figure."
" Give me," said I, " full permission to go forth into the
high-ways and by-ways, and I will engage to bring a
1(40 pelham; or,
whole legion of dandies to the House door. I can go no
farther ; your other agents must do the r-est."
" Thank you, my dear young friend," said Lord Dawton,
eagerly ; "thank you a thousand times : we must really
get you in the House as soon as possible ; you will serve
us more than I can express."
I bowed, with a sneer I could not repress. Dawton
pretended not to observe it. " Come," said I, " my lord,
we have no time to lose. I shall meet you, perhaps, at
Brookes's, to-morrow evening, and report to you respect-
ing my success."
Lord Dawton pressed my hand warmly, and followed
me to the door.
" He is the best premier we could have," thought I ;
"but he deceives himself, if he thinks Henry Pelham will
play the jackall to his lion. He will soon see that I shall
keep for myself what he thinks I hunt for him." I passed
through Pall Mall, and thought of Glanville. I knocked
at his door : he was at home. I found him leaning his
cheek upon his hand, in a thoughtful position ; an open
letter was before him.
" Read that," he said, pointing to it.
I did so. It was from the agent to the Duke of—,
and contained his nomination to an opposition borough.
"A new toy, Pelham," said he, faintly smiling; "but a
little longer, and they will all be broken — the rattle will
be the last."
" My dear, dear Glanville," said I, much affected, " do
not talk thus ; you have everything before you."
ADVENTURES OP A GENTLEMAN. gif
** Yes," interrupted Glanville, " you are right, for everj
thing left for me is in the grave. Do you imagine that 1
can taste one of the possessions which fortune has heaped
upon me ; that I have one healthful faculty, one sense of
enjoyment, among the hundred which other men are ' heirs
to ? ' When did you ever see me for a moment happy ?
I live, as it were, on a rock, barren, and herbless, and
sapless, and cut off from all human fellowship and inter-
course. I had only a single object left to live for, when
you saw me at Paris ; I have gratified that, and the end
and purpose of my existence is fulfilled. Heaven is mer-
ciful ; but a little while, and this feverish and unquiet
spirit shall be at rest."
I took his hand and pressed it.
" Feel," said he, " this dry, burning skin ; count my
pulse through the variations of a single minute, and you
will cease either to pity me, or to speak to me of life.
For months I have had, night and day, a wasting —
wasting fever, of brain and heart, and frame; the fire
works well, and the fuel is nearly consumed." *
He paused, and we were both silent. In fact, I was
shocked at the fever of his pulse, no less than affected at
the despondency of his words. At last I spoke to him of
medical advice.
" * Canst thou,' " he said, with a deep solemnity of voice
and manner, "'administer to a mind diseased — pluck
from the memory' * * * * Ah 1 away with the quotation
and the reflection." And he sprang from the sofa, and,
going to the window, opened it, and leaned out for a few
29*
S42 PELHAM; OR,
moments in silence. When he tarned again towards me^
his manner had regained its usual quiet. He spoke about
the important motion approaching on the , and
promised to attend ; and then, bj degrees, I led him to
talk of his sister.
He mentioned her with enthusiasm. '' Beautiful as Ellen
is," he said, " her face is the very faintest reflection of her
mind. Her habits of thought are so pure, that every
impulse is a virtue. Never was there a person to whom
goodness was so easy. Tice seems something so opposite
to her nature, that I cannot imagine it possible for her
to sin."
" Will you not call with me at your mother's ? " said
I. "I am going there to-day."
Glanville replied in the affirmative, and we went at once
to Lady Glanville's in Berkeley'Square. We were admit-
ted into his mother's boudoir. She was alone with Miss
Glanville. Our conversation soon turned from common-
place topics to those of a graver nature ; the deep melan-
•holy of Glanville's mind imbued all his thoughts, when
he suffered himself to express them.
"Why," said Lady Glanville, who seemed painfully
fond of her son, " why do you not go more into the world ?
You suflFer your mind to prey upon itself, till it destroys
you. My dear, dear son, how very ill you seem 1 "
Ellen, whose eyes swam in tears, as they gazed upon
her brother, laid her beautiful hand upon his, and said,
" For my mother's sake, Reginald, do take moie care of
vonrself : von want air, and exercise, and amusement."
ADYENTUUEB OF A GENTLEMAN. 34:i
"No," answered Glanville, " I want nothing but occu-
pation ; and, thanks to the Duke of , I have now
got it. I am chosen member for ^."
*' I am too happy," said the proud mother ; . " you will
now be all I have ever predicted for you ; " and, in her
joy at the moment, she forgot the hectic of his cheek, and
the hollo wness of his eye.
''Do you remember," said Reginald, turning to hia
sidter, "those beautiful lines in my favorite Ford —
* Glories
Of haman greatness are but pleasing dreams,
And shadows soon decaying. On the stage
Of mj mortality, my youth has acted
Some scenes of vanity, drawn out at length
By yaried pleasures — sweetened in the mixture.
But tragical in issue. Beauty, pomp,
With every sensuality our giddiness
Doth frame an idol — are inconstant friends
When any troubled passion makes us halt
On the unguarded castle of the mind.'"
"Your verses," said I, "are beautiful, even to me, who
have no soul for poetry, and never wrote a line in my life.
But I love not their philosophy. In all sentiments that
are impregnated with melancholy, and instil sadness as a
moral, I question the wisdom, and dispute the truth.
There is no situation in life which we cannot sweeten, or
embitter, at will. If the past is gloomy, I do not see the
necessity of dwelling upon it. If the mind can make one
vigorous exertion, it can another : the same energy you
pat forth in acquiring knowledge, would also enable you
to baMe misfortune. Determine not to think upon what
34i pelham; ob.
Is painfui: resolutely turn away from every thing that
recalls it ; bend all your attention to some new and en-
grossing object ; do this, and you defeat the past. You
smile, as if this were impossible ; yet it is not an iota more
so, than to tear one's self from a favorite pursuit, and
addict one's self to an object unwelcome to one at first.
This the mind does continually through life : so can it also
do the other, if you will but make an equal exertion. Nor
does it seem to me natural to the human heart to look
much to the past; all its plans, its projects, its aspiratibns,
are for the future ; it is /or the future, and in the future,
that we live. Our very passions, when most agitated, are
most anticipative. Revenge, avarice, ambition, love, the
desire of good and evil, are all fixed and pointed to some
distant goal ; to look backwards, is like walking backwards
— against our proper formation : the mind does not readily
adopt the habit, and when once adopted, it will readily
return to its natural bias. Oblivion is, therefore, a more
easily obtained boon than we imagine. Forgetfulness of
the past is purchased by increasing our anxiety for the
future."
I paused for a moment, but Glanville did not answer me ;
and, encouraged by a look from Ellen, I continued — " You
remember that, according to an old creed, if we were
given memory as a curie, we were also given hope as a
blessing. Counteract the one by the other. In my own
life, I have committed many weak, perhaps many wicked
actions ; I have chased away their remembrance, though
1 have transplanted their warning to the future. As the
body involuntarily avoids what is hurtful to it, withont
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLElilAN. 345
tracing the association to its first experience, so the mind
insensibly shuns what has formerly afflicted it, even without
palpably recalling the remembrance of the affliction.
" The Roman philosopher placed the secret of human
happiness in the one maxim — *not to admire.' I never
could exactly comprehend the sense of the moral : ray
maxim for the same object would be — ' never to regret. ' "
"Alas 1 my dear friend," said Glanville — " we are great
philosophers to each other, but not to ourselves; the
moment we begin to feel sorrow, we cease to reflect on
its wisdom. Time is the only comforter ; your maxims
are very true, but they confirm me in my opinion — that
it is in vain for us to lay down fixed precepts for the regu-
lation of the mind, so long as it is dependent upon the
body. Happiness and its reverse are constitutional in
many persons, and.it is then only that they are independent
of circumstances. Make the health, the frames of all men,
alike — make their nerves of the same susceptibility —
their memories of the same bluntness, or acuteness — and
I will then allow that you can give rules adapted to all
men ; till then, your maxim, * never to regret;' is as idle
as Horace's 'never to admire.' It may be wise to you
— it is impossible to me!"
With these last words, Glanville's voice faltered, and I
felt averse to push the argument further. Ellen's eye
caught mine, and gave me a look so kind, and almost
grateful, that I forgot every thing else in the world. A
few moments afterwards a friend of Lady Glanville's was
announced, and I left the room.
pxlham; OB,
CHAPTER LT.
^— Intos, et in jecore segro,
Nascnntur domini — Peksius.
The next two or three days I spent in visiting all mj
male friends in the Lower Honse, and engaging them to
dine with me, preparatorily to the great act of voting on
*8 motion. I led them myself to the House of Com-
mons, and not feeling sufficiently interested in the debate
to remain, as a stranger, where I ought, in my own opinion,
to have acted as a performer, I went to Brooke's to wait
the result. Lord Gravelton, a stout, bluff, six-foot noble-
man, with a voice like a Stentor, was *' blowing up " the
waiters in the coffee-room. Mr. , the author of ,
was conning the Courier in a corner ; and Lord Armadil-
leros, the haughtiest and most honorable peer in the
calendar, was monopolizing the drawing-room, with his
right foot dn one hob and his left on the other. I sat
myself down in silence, and looked over the "crack article "
in the Edinburgh. By and by, the room got fuller ; every
one spoke of the motion before the House, and anticipated
the merits of the speeches, and the numbers of the voters.
At last a principal member entered — a crowd gathered
round him. " I have heard," he said, " the most extraor-
dinary speech, for the combination of knowledge and
imagination, that I ever recollect to have listened to."
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 34?
" From Gaskell, I suppose ? " was the universal cry.
" No," said Mr " Gaskell has not yet spoken It
was from a young man who has only just taken his seat
It was received with the most unanimous cheers, and was,
indeed, a remarkable display."
" What is his name ? " I asked, already half forebodir g
the answer.
" I only just learnt it as I left the House," replied Mr.
; "the speaker was Sir Reginald Glanville."
Then, every one of those whom I had often before heard
censure Glanville for his rudeness, or laugh at him for.hia
eccentricity, opened their mouths in congratulations to
their own wisdom, for having long admired his talents and
predicted his success.
I left the " turba Remi sequens fortunam ; " I felt
agitated and feverish ; those who have unexpectedly
heard of the success of a man for whom great affection is
blended with greater interest, can understand the restless-
ness of mind with which I wandered into the streets.
The air was cold and nipping. I was buttoning my coat
round my chest, when I heard a voice say, "You have
dropped your glove, Mr. Pelham."
The speaker was Thornton. I thanked him coldly for
his civility, and was going on, when he said, " If your
way is up Pall Mall, I have no objection to join you for
a few minutes."
I bowed with some hauteur ; but as I seldom refuse
aixj opportunity of knowinpr more perfectly individual
Ci8 pelham; OB,
character, I said I should be happy of his company so
long as our way lay together.
" It is a cold night, Mr. Pelham," said Thornton, after
a pause. *' I have been dining at Hatchett's, with an old
Paris acquaintance : I am sorry we did not meet more
often in France, but I was so taken up with my friend
Mr. Warburton."
As Thornton uttered that name, he looked hard at me,
and then added, *' By the by, I saw you with Sir Reginald
Glanville the other day ; you know him well, I presume ? "
"•Tolerably well," said I, with indifference.
" What a strange character he is," rejoined Thornton ;
"J also have known him for some years," and again
Thornton looked pryingly into my countenance. Poor
fool I it was not for a penetration like his to read the cor
inscrutdbile of a man born and bred like me, in the. con-
summate dissimulation of hon ton,
"He is very rich, is he not?" said Thornton, aft^
brief silence.
"I believe so," said I.
" Humph 1 " answered Thornton. " Things have grown
better with him, in proportion as they grew worse with
me, who have had * as good luck as the cow that stuck
herself with her own horn.' I suppose he is not too
anxious to recollect me — 'poverty parts fellowship.*
Well, hang pride, say I ; give me an honest heart all tho
year round, in summer or winter, drought or plenty
Would to heaven some kind friend would lend me twenty
pounds I "
ADVENTUUES OF A GENTLEMAN. 349
To this wish I made no reply. Thornton sighed.
" Mr. Pelham," renewed he, " it is true I have known
you but a short time — excuse the liberty I take — but if
you could lend me a trifle, it would really assist me very
much."
"Mr. Thornton," said I, "if I knew you better, and
••ould serve you more, you might apply to me for a more
eal assistance than any bagatelle I could afford you would
be. If twenty pounds would really be of service to you,
I will lend them to you, upon this condition, that you
never ask me for another farthing."
Thornton's face brightened. "A thousand, thousand — ''
he began.
"No," interrupted I, "no thanks, only your promise."
"Upon my honor," said Thornton, "I will never ask
you for another farthing."
" There is honor among thieves," thought I, and so I
took out the sum mentioned, and gave it to him. In good
earnest, though I disliked the man, his threadbare gar-
ments and altered appearance moved me to compassion.
While he was pocketing the money, which he did with
the most unequivocal delight, a tall figure passed us
rapidly. We both turned at the same instant, and recog-
nized Glanville. He had not gone seven yards beyond
U8, before we observed his steps, which were very irregu-
lar, pause suddenly ; a moment afterwards he fell against
the iron rails of an area ; we hastened towards him ; he
Ya8 apparently fainting. His countenance was perfectly
livid, and marked with the traces of extreme exhaustion.
I.— 30
850 PEL ham; or,.
I sent Thornton to the nearest public-house for some
water ; before he returned, Glanville had recovered.
'*A11 — all — ^in vain," he said, slowly and unconsciously,
"death is the only Lethe."
He started when he saw me. I made him lean on my
arm, and we walked on slowly.
'* I have already heard of your speech," said T. Glan-
Tille smiled with the usual faint and sicklied expression,
which made his smile painful even in its exceeding sweet-
ness.
" You have also already seen its eflFects ; the excitement
was too much for me.'^
"It must have been a proud moment when you sat
down," said I.
'* It was one of the bitterest I ever felt — it was fraught
with the memory of the dead. What are all honors to
me now ? — 0 God 1 O God I have mercy upon me ! "
And Glanville stopped suddenly, and put his hand to
his temples.
By this time Thornton had joined us. When Glanville's
eyes rested upon him, a deep hectic rose slowly and grad-
ually over his cheeks. Thornton's lip curled with a ma-
licious expression. Glanville marked it, and his brow
grew on the moment as black as night.
" Begone I " he said, in a loud voice, and with a flashing
eye, " begone instantly ; I loathe the very sight of so base
a thing."
Thornton's quick, restless eye, grew like a living coal,
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 351
EDd he bit his lip so violently that the blood gushed oaU
He made, however, no other answer than —
" You seem agitated to-night. Sir Reginald ; I wish
your speedy restoration to better health. Mr. Pelham,
your servant."
Olanville walked on in silence till we came to his door ;
we parted there ; and, for want of any thing better to do,
I sauntered towards the M Hell. There were only
about ten or twelve persons in the rooms, and all were
gathered round the hazard table — I looked on silently,
seeing the knaves devour the fools, and younger brothers
make up in wit for the deficiencies of fortune.
The Honorable Mr. Blagrave came up to me ; " Do
you never play?" said he.
" Sometimes," was my brief reply.
" Lend me a hundred pounds I " rejoined my kind ac-
quaintance.
" I was just going to make you the same request," said I.
Blagrave laughed heartily. " Well," said he, '* be my
security to a Jew, and I'll be yours. My fellow lends me
money at only forty per cent. My governor is a d d
stingy old fellow, for I am the most moderate son in the
universe. I neither hunt nor race, nor have I any one
favorite expense, except gambling, and he won't satisfy
me in that — now I call such conduct shameful 1"
"Unheard-of barbarity," said I ; "and you do well to
rain your property by Jews, before you have it ; you could
not avenge yourself better on *the governor.'"
"No, hang it," said Blagrave, "leave me alone for
352 pelham; or,
that I Well, I have got five pounds left, I shall go and
slap it down."
No sooner had he left me than I was accosted by Mr.
, a handsome adventurer, who lived the devil knew
how, for the devil seemed to take excellent care of him.
" Poor Blagrave 1 " said he, eyeing the countenance of
that ingenious youth. " He is a strange fellow — he asked
me the other day, if I ever read the History of England,
and told me there was a great deal in it about his ancestor,
a Roman General, in the time of William the Conqueror,
called Caractacus. He told me at the last Newmarket,
that he had made up a capital book, and it turned out
that he had hedged with such dexterity, that he must lose
one thousand pounds, and he might lose two. Well, well,"
continued , with a sanctified expression ; " I would
sooner see those real fools here, than the confounded
scoundrels, who pillage one under a false appearance.
Never, Mr. Pelham, trust to a man at a gaming-house ;
the honestest look hides the worst sharper 1 Shall you
try your luck to-night?"
"No," said I. *'l shall only look on."
sauntered to the table, and sat down next to a
rich young man, of the best temper and the worst luck
in the world. After a few throws, said to him,
"Lord •, do put your money aside — you have so
much on the table, that it interferes with mine — and that
is really so unpleasant. Suppose you put some of it in
your pocket."
Lord — — took a handful of notes, and staffed them
ADVENTURES OP A GENTLEMAN. 353
carelessly in his coat-pocket. Five minutes afterwards I
saw insert his hand, empty, in his neighbor's pocket,
and bring it out /uZZ — and half an hour afterwards he
handed over a fifty pound note to the marker, saying,
" There, sir, is my debt to you. God bless me. Lord ,
how you have won ; I wish you would not leave all youi
money about — do put it in your pocket with the rest."
Lord (who had perceived the trick, though he
was too indolent to resist it) laughed. '* No, no, ,"
said he, " you must let me keep some/^^
colored, and soon after rose. " D — n my luck I "
said he, as he passed me. " I wonder I continue to play
— but there are such sharpers in the room. Avoid a
gaming-house, Mr. Pelham, if you wish to live."
"And let live," thought L
I was just going away, when I heard a loud laugh on
the stairs, and immediately afterwards Thornton entered,
joking with one of the markers. He did not see me ;
but approaching the table, drew out the identical twenty
pound note I had given him, and asked for change with
the air of a millionaire, I did not wait to witness his
fortune, good or ill ; I cared too little about it. I de-
scended the stairs, and the servant, on opening the door
for me, admitted Sir John Tyrrell. " What," I thought,
" is the habit still so strong ? " We stopped each other,
and after a few words of greeting, I went, once more, up
stairs with him.
Thornton was playing as eagerly with his small quota
as Lord C with his ten thousands. He nodded with
30* X
354 pelham; ob,
an affected air of familiarity to Tyrrell, who returned his
salutation with the most sapercilious hautenr ; and rery
soon afterwards the baronet was utterly engrossed by the
chances of the game. I had, however, satisfied my cari-
osity, in ascertaining that there was no longer any inti-
macy between him and Thornton, and accordingly vnco
more I took my departure.
CHAPTER LVI.
The times baTe been
That when the brains were out, the man would die,
And there an end — but now they rise again. — Macbeth,
It was a strange thing to see a man like Qlanville, with
costly tastes, luxurious habits, great talents pecaliarly
calculated for display, courted by the highest members of
the state, admired for his beauty and genius by half the
women in London, yet living in the most ascetic seclusion
from his kind, and indulging in the darkest and most
morbid despondency. No female was ever seen _to win
even his momentary glance of admiration. All the senses
appeared to have lost, for him, their customary allure-
ments. He lived among his books, and seemed to make
nis favorite companions amidst the past. At nearly all
hours of the night he was awake and occupied, and at
day-break his horse was always brought to his door. He
rode alone for several hours, and then, on his return, he
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 355
was employed till the hour he went to the Hoase, la the
affairs and politics of the day. Ever since his d^bid, he
had entered with much constancy into the more leading
debates, and his speeches were invariably of the same
commanding order which had characterized his first.
It was singular that, in his parliamentary display, as in
his ordinary conversation, there were none of the wild
and specalative opinions, or the burning enthasiasm of
romance, in which the natural inclination of his mind
seemed so essentially to delight His arguments were
always remarkable for the soundness of the principles on
which they were based, and the logical clearness with
which they were expressed. The feverish fervor ot his
temperament was, it is true, occasionally shown in a re-
markable energy of delivery, or a sudden and unexpected
burst of the more impetuous powers of oratory ; but these
were so evidently natural and spontaneous, and so happily
adapted to be impressive of the subject, rather than irrel-
evant from its bearings, that they never displeased even
the oldest and coldest cynics and calculators of the House.
It is no uncommon contradiction in human nature (and
in Glanville it seemed peculiarly prominent) to find men
of imagination and genius gifted with the strongest com-
mon sense, for the admonition or benefit of others, even
while constantly neglecting to exert it for themselves.
He was soon marked out as the most promising and im-
portant of all the junior members of the House ; and the
coldness with which he kept aloof from social intercourse
Ih^t pelham; or,
with the party he adopted, only served to increase theif
respect, though it prevented their affection.
Lady Roseville's attachment to him was scarcely a
secret ; the celebrity of her name in the world of ton
made her least look or action the constant subject of
present remark and after conversation ; and there were
too many moments, even in the watchful publicity of
society, when that charming but imprudent person forgot
everything but the romance of her attachment. Glanville
seemed not only perfectly untouched by it, but even wholly
unconscious of its existence, and preserved invariably,
whenever he was forced into the crowd, the same stern,
cold, unsympathizing reserve, which made him, at once,
an object of universal conversation and dislike.
Three weeks after Glanville's first speech in the House,
I called upon him, with a proposal from Lord Dawton.
After we had discussed it, we spoke on more familiar
topics, and, at last, he mentioned Thornton. It will be
observed that we had never conversed respecting that
person ; nor had Glanville once alluded to our former
meetings, or to his disguised appearance and false appel-
lation at Paris. Whatever might be the mystery, it was
evidently of a painful nature, and it was not, therefore,
for mc to allude to it. This day he spoke of Thornton
with a tone of indifference.
" The man," he said, " I have known for some time ;
he was useful to me abroad, and, notwithstanding his
character, I rewarded him well for his services. He has
since applied to me several times for money, which is
ADyHNTURBS OF A GENTLEMAN. 351
spent at the gambling-bonse as soon as it is obtained.
I believe him to be leagued with a gang of sharpers of
the lowest description ; and I am really unwilling any
farther to supply the vicious necessities of himself and
his comrades. He is a mean, mercenary rascal, who would
scruple at no enormity, provided he was paid for it 1 "
Glanville paused for a few moments, and then added,
while his cheek blushed, and his voice seemed somewhat
hesitating and embarrassed —
** You remember Mr. Tyrrell, at Paris ? '*
" Yes," said I — " he is, at present, in London, and — *'
Glanvilie started as if he had been shot.
"No, no," he exclaimed wildly — "he died at Paris,
from want, — from starvation."
" You are mistaken," said I ; "he is now Sir John
Tyrrell, and possessed of considerable property. I saw
him myself, three weeks ago."
Glanville, laying'his hand upon my arm, looked in my
face with a long, stern, prying gaze, and his cheek grew
more ghastly and livid with every moment. At last he
turned, and muttered something between his teeth ; and
at that moment the door opened, and Thornton was an-
nounced. Glanville sprang towards him, and seized him
by the throat I
"Dog!" he cried, "you have deceived me — Tyrrell
lives 1 "
" Hands off 1 " cried the gamester, with a savage grin
of defiance — " hands off I or, by the Lord that made mo,
f ou shall have gripe for gripe I "
358 pelham; or,
" Ho, wretch I " said Glanville, shaking him violently,
while his worn and slender, yet still powerful frame,
trembled with the excess of his passion ; ** dost thon dare
to threaten me 1 " and with these words he flung Thornton
against the opposite wall with such force, that the blood
gushed out of his mouth and nostrils. The gambler rose
slowly, and wiping the blood from his faee, fixed his
malignant and fiery eye upon his aggressor, with an ex-
pression of collected hate and vengeance, that made my
very blood creep.
*' It is not my day now,^^ he said, with a calm, quiet,
cold voice, and then, suddenly changing his manner, he
approached me with a sort of bow, and made some remark
on the weather.
Meanwhile, Glanville had sunk on the sofa exhausted,
less by his latd effort than the convulsive passion which
had produced it. He rose in a few moments, and said
to Thornton, "Pardon my violence'; let this pay your
bruises ; " and he placed a long and apparently well-filled
purse in Thornton's hand. That veritable philosophe
took it with the same air as a dog receives the first caress
from the hand which has just chastised him ; and feeling
the purse between his short, hard fingers, as if to ascertain
the soundness of its condition, quietly slid it into his
breeches-pocket, which he then buttoned with care, and .
pulling his waistcoat down, as if for further protection to
the deposit, he turned towards Glanville, and said, in hia
usual quaint style of vulgarity —
'' Least said, Sir Reginald, the soonest mended. Gold
ADVENTUBBS OF A QKNTLBMAN. .^59
Is a good plaister for bad bruises. Now, then, your will :
— ask and I will answer, unless you think Mr. Pelham —
de trop,^^
I was already at the door, with the intention of leaving
the room, when Glanville cried, " Stay, Pelham, I have
but one question to ask Mr. Thornton. Is John Tyrrell
still living ? "
" He is I " answered Thornton, with a sardonic smile.
"And beyond all want?" resumed Glanville.
" He is 1 " was the tautological reply.
" Mr. Thornton," said Glanville, with a calm voice, " I
have now done with you — you may leave the room ! "
Thornton bowed with an air of ironical respect, and
obeyed the command.
I turned to look at Glanville. His countenance, always
better adapted to a stern, than a soft expression, was
perfectly fearful : every line in it seemed dug into a furrow ;
the brows were bent over his large and flashing eyes with
a painful intensity of anger and resolve, his teeth were
clenched firmly as if by a vice, and the thin upper lip,
whidh was drawn from them with a bitter curl of scorn,
was as white as death. His right hand had closed upon
the back of the chair, over which his tall nervous frame
leant, and was grasping it with an iron force, which it
could not support : it snapped beneath his hand like a
hazel stick. This accident, slight as it was, recalled him
to himself. He apologized with apparent self-possession
fcr his disorder ; and, after a few words of fervent and
affectionate farewell on my part, I left him to the solitude
which I knew he desired.
860 PELHAM; OB,
CHAPTER LVII.
While I seemed only intent upon pleasure, I locked in my heart
the consciousness and yanitj of power ; in the levity of the lip, I
disguised the knowledge and the workings of the brain ; and I
looked, as with a gifted eye, upon the mysteries of the hidden depths,
while I seemed to float an idler with the herd only upon the surface
of the stream. — Falkland.
As I walked home, revolving the scene I had witnessed,
the words of Tyrrell came into my recollection — viz. that
the cause of Glanville's dislike to him had arisen in Tyr-
relPs greater success in some youthful liaison. In this
account I could not see much probability. In the first
place, the cause was not suflScient to produce such an
effect ; and, in the second, there was but little likelihood
that the young and rich Qlanville, possessed of the most
farious accomplishments, and the most remarkable per-
sonal beauty, should be supplanted by a needy spendthrift
(as Tyrrell at that time was), of coarse manners, and
unpolished mind ; with a person not, indeed, unprepos
sessing, but somewhat touched by time, and never more
comparable to Qlanville's than that of the Satyr to Hy-
perion.
While I was meditating over a mystery which excited
my curiosity more powerfully than anything, not relating
to himself, ought ever to occupy the attention of a wise
man, I was accosted by Vincent : the difference in our
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 361
politics had of late much dissevered as, and when he took
my arm, and drew me up Bond-street. I was somewhat
surprised at his condescension.
" Listen to me," he said ; " once more I offer you a
settlement in our colony. There will be great changes
soon : trust me, so radical a party as that you have adopted
can never come in : ours, on the contrary, is no less mod-
erate than liberal. This is the last time of asking ; for I
know you will soon have exposed your opinions in public
more openly than you have yet done, and then it will be
too late. At present, I hold, with Hudibras, and the
ancients, that it is— -
'More honorable far, tervare
Civem than slay an adversary.'"
"Alas, Vincent," said I, '' I am marked out for slaughter :
for you cannot convince me by words, and so, I suppose,
you must conquer me by blows. Adieu, this is my way
to Lord Dawton's : where are you going ? "
" To mount my horse, and join the parca juventus,"
said Yincent, with a laugh at his own witticism, as we
shook hands, and parted.
I grieve much, my beloved reader, that I cannot unfold
to thee all the particulars of my political intrigue. I am,
by the very share which fell to my lot, bound over to the
strictest secrecy, as to its nature, and the characters of
the chief agents in its execution. Suffice it to say, that
the greater part of my time was, though furtively, employed
In asort of home diplomacy, gratifying alike to the activity
of my tastes, and the vanity of my mind. I had filled
L~31
362 pelham; or,
Dawton, and his coadjutors, with an exaggerated opinion
of mj abilities ; but I knew well how to sustain it. I
rose by candle-light, and consumed, in the intensest appli-
cation, the hours which every other individual of our party
wasted in enervating slumbers, from the hesternal dissi-
pation or debauch. Was there a question in political
economy debated, mine was the readiest and the clearest
reply. Did a period in our constitution become investiga-
ted, it was I to whom the duty of expositor was referred.
From Madame d'Anville, with whom (though lost as a
lover) I constantly corresponded as a friend, I obtained
the earliest and most accurate detail of the prospects and
manoeuvres of the court in which her life was spent, and
in whose more secret offices her husband was employjd.
I spared no means of extending my knowledge of every
the minutest point which could add to the reputation I
enjoyed. I made myself acquainted with the individual
interests and exact circumstances of all whom it was our
object to intimidate or to gain. It was I who brought
to the House the younger and idler members, whom no
more nominally powerful agent could allure from the ball-
room or the gaming-house.
In short, while, by the dignity of my birth, and the
independent hauteur of my bearing, I preserved the rank
of au equal amongst the highest of the set, I did not
scruple to take upon myself the labor and activity of the
most subordinate. Dawton declared me his right hand ;
and though I knew myself rather his head than his hand,
I pretended to feel proud of the appellation.
ADVENTUllES OF A GENTLEMAN. 363
Meanwhile, it was my pleasure to wear in society the
eccentric costume of character I had first adopted, and to
cultivate the arts which won from women the smile that
cheered and encouraged me in ipy graver contest with men.
It was only to Ellen Glanville, that I laid aside an affec*
tat ion, which, I knew, was little likely to attract a taste
so refined and unadulterated as hers. I discovered in
her a mind which, while it charmed me by its tenderness
and freshness, elevated me by its loftiness of thought.
She was, at heart, perhaps, as ambitious as myself; but
while my aspirations were concealed by affectation, hera
were softened by her timidity, and purified by her religion.
There were moments when I opened myself to her, and
caught a new spirit from her look of sympathy and enthu-
siasm.
" Yes," thought I, " I do long for honors, but it is that
I may ask her to share and ennoble them." In fine, I
loved as other men loved — and I fancied a perfection in
her, and vowed an emulation in myself, which it was re-
served for Time to ratify or deride.
Where did I leave myself ? as the Irishman said ; — on
my road to Lord Dawton's. I was lucky enough to find
that personage at home ; he was writing at a table covero.d
with pamphlets and books of reference.
" Ilush I Pelham," said his lordship, who is a quiet,
grave, meditative little man, always ruminating on a very
small cud — " hush 1 or do oblige me by looking over thig
bistory, to find out the date of the Council of Pisa."
364 PELHAM.
**That will do, my young friend," said his lordship,
after I had furnished him with the information he required
— "I wish to Heaven, I could finish this pamphlet by to-
morrow : it is intended as ^an answer to • But I am
80 perplexed with business that "
" Perhaps," said I, " if you will pardon my interrupting
you, lean throw your observations together — make your
Sibylline leaves into a book. Your lordship will find the
matter, and I will not spare the trouble."
Lord Dawton was profuse in his thanks ; he explained
the subject, and left the arrangement wholly to me. He
could not presume to dictate. I promised him, if he lent
me the necessary books, to finish the pamphlet against the
following evening.
"And now," said Lord Dawton — " that we have settled
this aflFair — what news from France ? " —
4e ♦ ♦ 4e 4e ♦
m ♦ ♦ ♦ 3|c ' 4e
"I wish," sighed Lord Dawton, as we were calculating:
our forces, "that we could gain over Lord Guloseton."
" What, the facetious epicure ? " said I.
" The same," answered Dawton : " we want him as a
dinner-giver ; and, besides, he has four votes in the Lower
House."
"Well," said I, "he is indolent and independent — it is
not impossible."
" Do you know him ? " answered Dawtou.
"No:" said L
ADYBNTUBEB OF A QENTLS^MAN. 365
Dawton sighed. — "And yonng A ?" said the
statesman, after a pause.
" Has an expensive mistress, and races. Your lordship
might be sure of him, were you in power, and sure not to
have him while jou are out of it."
'^And B. J " rejoined Dawton.
« ♦ ♦ 3|C 4b «
******
******
31*
■ VD or THI VIBBT YOLUMS.
P E L H A M
VOL. II.
PELHAM;
OB,
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN.
CHAPTER LVIII.
Mangez-Yous bien, Monsieur?
Oui, et bois enoore mieuz. — Mont, de Poreeaugnae.
Mr pamphlet took prodigiously. The authorship wag
attributed to one of the ablest members of the Opposition ;
and though there were many errors in style, and (I now
think -then I did not, or I should not have written them,)
many sophisms in the reasoning, yet it carried the end
proposed by all ambition of whatever species — and im-
posed upon the taste of the public.
Some time afterwards, I was going down the stairs at
Almack's, when I heard an altercation, high and grave, at
the door of reception. To my surprise, I found Lord
Guloseton and a very young man in great wrath ; the
latter had never been to Almack's before, and had forgotten
bis ticket. Guloseton, who belonged to a very different
Y (7)
8 PEJiHAM; OR,
set from that of the Almackians, insisted that his word
was enough to bear his juvenile companion through. The
ticket-inspector was irate and obdurate, and, having seldom
or never seen Lord Guloseton himself, paid very little
respect to his authority.
As I was wrapping myself in my cloak, Guloseton turned
to me, for passion makes men open their hearts : too eager
for an opportunity of acquiring the epicure's acquaintance,
I offered to get his friend admittance in an instant ; the
offer was delightedly accepted, and I soon procured a
small piece of pencilled paper from Lady which
effectually silenced the Charon, and opened the Stygian
via to the Elysium beyond.
Guloseton overwhelmed me with his thanks. I remount-
ted the stairs with him — took every opportunity of ingra-
tiating myself — received an invitation to dinner on the
following day, and left Willis^s transported at the good-
ness of my fortune.
At the hour of eight on the ensuing evening, I had just
made my entrance in Lord Guloseton's drawing-room. It
was a small apartment, furnished with great luxury and
some taste. A Yenus of Titian's was placed over the
chimney-piece, in all the gorgeous voluptuousness of her
unveiled beauty — the pouting lip, not silent though sAul
— the eloquent lid drooping over the eye, whose glances
you could so easily imagine — the arms — the limbs — the
attitude, so composed, yet so full of life — all seemed to
indicate that sleep was not forgetfulness, and that the
dreams of the goddess were not wholly inharmonious with
ADVENTURES OP A GENTLEMAN. 9
the waking realities in which it was her gentle prerogative
to indulge. On either side, was a picture of the delicate
and golden hues of Claude ; these were the only landscapes
in the room ; the remaining pictures were more suitable
to the Venus of the luxurious Italian. Here was one of
the beauties of Sir Peter Lely ; there was an admirable
copy of the Hero and Leander. On the table lay the
Basia of Johannes Secundus, and a. few French works on
Gastronomy.
As for the genius loci — yon must imagine a middle-
sized, middle-aged man, with an air rather of delicate than
florid health. But little of the effects of his good cheer
was apparent in the external man. His cheeks were
neither swollen nor inflated — his person, though not thin,
was of no unwieldy obesity — the tip of his nasal organ
was, it is true, of a more ruby tinge than the rest, and one
carbuncle, of tender age and gentle dyes, diffused its
mellow and moonlight influence over the physiognomical
scenery — his forehead was high and bald, and the few
locks which still rose above it, were carefully and gracefully
curled d Vaniique. Beneath a pair of grey shaggy brows,
(which their noble owner had a strange habit of raising
and depressing, according to the nature of his remarks,)
rolled two very small piercing, arch, restless orbs, of a
tender green ; and the mouth, which was wide and thick-
lipped, was expressive of great sensuality, and curved
upwards in a perpetual smile.
Ruch was Lord Guloseton. To my surprise no other
guest but myself appeared.
10 pe:.ham; or,
"A new friend," said he, as we descended into the
dining-room, ** is like a new dish — one must have him all
to oneself, thoroughly to enjoy and rightly to understand
him."
"A noble precept," said I, with enthusiasm. " Of all
Tices, indiscriminate hospitality is the most pernicious. It
allows neither conversation nor dinner, and, realizing the
mythological fable of Tantalus, gives us starvation in the
midst of plenty."
** You are right," said Guloseton, solemnly ; "I never
ask above six persons to dinner, and I never dine out ; for
a bad dinner, Mr. Pelham, a bad dinner is a most serious
— I may add, the most serious calamity."
" Yes," I replied, " for it carries with it no consolation :
a buried friend may be replaced — a lost mistress renewed
— a slandered character be recovered — even a broken
constitution restored ; but a dinner, once lost, is irreme-
diable ; that day is for ever departed ; an appetite once
thrown away can never, till the cruel prolixity of the
gastric agents is over, be regained. * II y a tant de maU
tresseSf^ (says the admirable Corneille,) ' il n^y a qu'un
diner.'"
" You speak like an oracle — like the Cook^s Oracle,
Mr. Pelham : may I send you some soup ? — it is d la Gar-
melite. But what are you about to do with that case ? "
" It contains," said I, " my spoon, my knife, and my
fork. Nature afflicted me with a propensity, which, through
these machines, I have endeavored to remedy by art. I
eat with too great a rapidity. It is a most unhappy failing.
ADYSNTUBSB OF A GENTLEMAN. 11
for one often hnrries over in one minute, what onghc to
have afforded the fnllest delight for the period of five. It
is, indeed, a vice which deadens enjoyment, as well as
abbreviates it ; it is a shamefal waste of the gifts, and a
melancholy perversion of the bounty, of Providence. My
conscience tormented me ; but the habit, fatally indulged
in early childhood, was not easy to overcome. At last I
resolved to construct a spoon of peculiarly shallow dimen-
sions, a fork 80 small, that it could only raise a certain
portion to my mouth, and a knife rendered blunt and
jagged, 80 that it required a proper and just time to carve
the goods * the gods provide me.' My lord, * the lovely
Thais sits beside me ' in the form of a bottle of Madeira.
Suffer me to take wine with you?"
" With pleasure, my good friend ; let us drink to the
memory of the Carmelites, to whom we are indebted for
this inimitable soup."
" Yes I " I cried. " Let us for once shake off the pre-
judices of sectarian faith, and do justice to one order of
those incomparable men, who, retiring from the cares of
an idle and sinful world, gave themselves with undivided
zeal and attention to the theory and practice of the pro-
found science of gastronomy. It is reserved for us to pay
a grateful tribute of memory to those exalted recluses,
who, through a long period of barbarism and darkness
preserved, in the solitude of their cloisters, whatever of
Roman luxury and classic dainties have come down to this
later age. We will drink to the Carmelites as a sect, but
12 felham; OB,
we will drink also to the monks as a body. Had we lived
in those days, we had been monks ourselves I "
" It is singular," answered Lord Guloseton — ** (by the
6y, what think you of this turbot ?) — to trace the history
of the kitchen ; it affords the greatest scope to the phi-
losopher and the moralist. The ancients seemed to have
been more mental, more imaginative, than we are, in their
dishes ; they fed their bodies as well as their minds upon
delusion : for instance, they esteemed beyond all price the
tongues of nightingales, because they tasted the very music
of the birds in the organs of their utterance. That is what
I call the poetry of gastronomy ! "
"Yes," said I, with a sigh, "they certainly had, in
some respects, the advantage over us. Who can pore over
the suppers of Apicius without the fondest regret ? The
venerable Tide * implies, that the study has not progressed.
' Cookery (he says, in the first part of his work) possesses
but few innovators.'"
"It is with the greatest diffidence," said Guloseton,
(his mouth full of truth and turbot,) " that we may dare
to differ from so great an authority. Indeed, so high is
my veneration for that wise man, that if all the evidence
of my sense and reason were on one side, and the dictum
of the great Tide upon the other, I should be inclined —
I think, I should be determined — to relinquish the former,
and adopt the latter." f
" Bravo, Lord Guloseton," cried I, warmly. " ' Qu^un
♦Qtu The venerable Bede? — Printer** DeviL
f See the speech of Mr. Brougham in honor of Mr. Fox.
ADVENTURES OF A OENTLEMAK. 13
Cuisinier est un mortel divini ' Why should we not bo
proud of our knowledge in cookery ? it is the soul of
festivity at all times, and to all ages. How many mar-
riages have been the consequence of meeting at dinner I
How much good fortune has been the result of a good
supper ? At what moment of our existence are we happier
than at table ? There hatred and animosity are lulled to
sleep, and pleasure alone reigns. Here the cook, by his
skill and attention, anticipates our wishes in the happiest
selection of the best dishes and decorations. Here our
wants are satisfied, our minds and bodies invigorated, and
ourselves qualified for the high delights of love, music,
poetry, dancing, and other pleasures ; and is he, whose
talents have produced these happy effects, to rank no
higher in the scale of man than a common servant ? *
"'Yes,' cries the venerable professor himself, in a
firtuous and prophetic paroxysm of indignant merit —
' yes, my disciples, if you adopt, and attend to the rules
I have laid down, the self-love of mankind will consent at
last, that cookery shall rank in the class of the sciences,
and its professors deserve the name of artists I ' " f
"My dear, dear Sir," exclaimed Guloseton, with a
kindred glow, " I discover in you a spirit similar to my
own. Let us drink long life to the venerable Ude I "
" I pledge you, with all my soul," said I, fillfng my glass
to the brim.
" What a pity," rejoined Guloseton, " that Ude, whose
practical science was so perfect, should ever have written,
-~ — ■ — ' —
♦Ude, verbatim. f Ibid.
II. — 2
II PELHAM; OB,
or safTered others to write, the work published under hia
name ! True it is that the opening part, which you have
so feelingly recited, is composed with a grace, a charm
beyond the reach of art ; but the instructions are vapid and
frequently so erroneous, as to make us suspect their
authenticity; but, after all, cooking is not capable oi
becoming a written science — it is the philosophy of
practice I "
"Ah I by Lucullus," exclaimed I, interrupting host,my
** what a visionary Mchamelle f Oh, the inimitable sauce i
these chickens are indeed worthy of the honor of being
dressed. Never, my lord, as long as you live, eat a chicken
in the country ; excuse a pun, you will h&Yefoul fare.
'J'ai toujours redouts la yolaille perfide,
Qui brave les efforts d'une dent intrdpide.
SouYCtfit, par un ami dans ses champs entrain^.
J'ai reoonna le soir le coq infortun^
Qui m'avait le matin Ik I'aurore naissante
B^yeill^ brusquement de sa voiz glapissante;
Je Tavais admir^ dans le sein de la cour ;
Avec des yeux jaloux, j'avais yu son amour.
H^las ! le malheureuz, abjurant sa tendresse,
Exeroait au souper sa fureur v^ngresse.**
♦Ever I dread (when duped a day to spend
At his snug villa, by some fatal friend)
Grim chantioleer, whose breast, devoid of ruth,
Braves the stout effort of the desperate tooth.
Oft have I recognized at eve, the bird
Whose morning notes my ear prophetic heard,
Whose tender courtship won my pain'd regard,
Amidst the plumed seraglio of the yard.
Tender no more — behold him in your plate «-
And know, while eating, you avenge bis fat«.
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 15
Pardon the prolixity of my quotation for the sake of its
value."
"I do, I do," answered Guloseton, laughing at the
humor of the lines : till, suddenly checking himself, he said,
** we must be grave, Mr. Pelham ; it will never do to laugh.
What would become Qf our digestions ? "
" True," said I, relapsing into seriousness ; " and if you
will allow me one more quotation, you will see what my
author adds with regard to any abrupt interruption.
'D^fendez que personne, au milieu d'un banquet,
Ne Yous vienne douner un ayis indiscret;
Ecartex ce f^cheuz qui ^ers tous s'aohemine;
Rien ne doit d^ranger Phonnete homme qui dine.'"*
"Admirable advice," said Guloseton, toying with a filei
mignon de pouleL "Do you remember an example in
the Bailly of Suffren, who, being in India, was waited
upon by a deputation of natives while he was at dinner ?
' Tell them,' said he, ' that the Christian religion peremp-
torily forbids every Christian, while at table, to occupy
himself with any earthly subject, except the function of
eating.' The deputation retired in the profoundest respect
at the exceeding devotion of the French general."
"Well," said I, after we had chuckled gravely and
quietly, with the care of our digestion before us, for a few
minutes — "well, however good the invention was, the
♦At meals no access to the indiscreet;
All are intruders on the wise who eat. •
In that blest hour, your bore*s the yeriest sinner!
Nought must disturb a man of worth — at dinner.
[G PELHAM; OB,
idea is not entirely new, for the Greeks esteemed eating
and drinking plentifully, a sort of offering to the gods ;
and Aristotle explains the very word, ©oevo*, or feasts, by
an etymological exposition, * that it was thought a duty
to the gods to he drunk ; ' no bad idea of onr classica*
patterns of antiquity. Polypheme, too, in the Cyclops
of Euripides, no doubt a very sound theologian, says, his
stomach is his only deity ; and Xenophon tells us, that as
the Athenians exceeded all other people in the number
of their gods, so they exceeded them also in the number
of their feasts. May I send your lordship a quail ? "
" Pelham, my boy," said Quloseton, whose eyes began
to roll and twinkle with a brilliancy suited to the Tarious
liquids which ministered to their rejoicing orbs ; " I love
you for your classics. Polypheme was a wise fellow, a
very wise fellow, and it was a terrible shame in TTlysses
to put out his eye ! No wonder that the ingenious savage
made a deity of his stomach ; to what known visible source,
on this earth, was he indebted for a keener enjoyment—^
a more rapturous and a more constant delight? No
wonder he honored it with his gratitude, and supplied it
with his peace-offerings; — let us imitate so great an
example : — let us make our digestive receptacles a temple,
to which we will consecrate the choicest goods we possess ;
—let us conceive no pecuniary sacrifice too great, which
procures for our altar an acceptable gift;-— let us deem
it an impiety to hesitate, if a sauce seems extravagant, or
AD ortolan too dear ; and let our last act in this sublunary
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 17
existence be a solemn festival in honor of our unceasing
benefactor 1 "
" Amen to your creed 1 " said I : " edibilatory Epicurism
holds the key to all morality : for do we not see now how
sinful it is to yield to an obscene and exaggerated
intemperance? — would it not be to the last degree un
grateful to the high source of our enjoyment, to overload
it with a weight which would oppress it with languor or
harass it with pain ; and finally to drench away the effects
of our impiety with some nauseous potation which revolts
it, tortures it, convulses, irritates, enfeebles it, through
every particle of its system ? How wrong in us to give
way to anger, jealousy, revenge, or any evil passion ; for
does not all that affects the mind operate also upon the
stomach ; and how can we be so vicious, so obdurate, as
to forget, for a momentary indulgence, our debt to what
you have so justly designated our perpetual benefactor ? '
" Right," said Lord Guloseton, ** a bumper to the Moral
ity of the Stomach."
The dessert was now on the table. " I have dined
well,'' said Guloseton, stretching his legs with an air of
supreme satisfaction ; " but — " and here my philosopher
sighed deeply — " we cannot dine again till to-morrow !
Happy, happy, happy common people, who can eat supper I
"Would to Heaven, that I might have one boon — per-
petual appetite — a digestive Houri, which renewed its
virginity every time it was touched. Alas I for the insta-
bility of human enjoyment. But now that we have no
immediate hope to anticipate, let us cultivate the pleasures
2*
18 pelham; OB,
of memory. What thought you of the veau d la Daii*
phine f "
" Pardon me if I hesitate at giving my opinion, till I
have corrected my judgment by yours,"
" Why, then, I own I was somewhat displeased — dis-
appointed AS it were — with that dish ; the fact is, veal
ought to be killed in its very first infancy ; they suflFer it
to grow to too great an age. It becomes a sort of hobby'
dehoy, and possesses nothing of veal, but its insipidity, or
of beef but its toughness."
" Yes," said I, '* it is only in their veal, that the French
surpass us ; their other meats want the ruby juices and
elastic freshness of ours. Monsieur L allowed this
truth with a candor worthy of his vast mind. Mon Dieu !
what claret ! — what a body I and, let me add, what a soul,
beneath it I Who would drink wine like this ? it is only
made to taste. It is the first love — too pure for the eager-
ness of enjoyment ; the rapture it inspires is in a touch, a
kiss. It is a pity, my lord, that we do not serve perfumes
ftt dessert ; it is their appropriate place. In confectionary
(delicate invention of the Sylphs,) we imitate the forms of
the rose and the jasimine ; why not their odors too ? What
is nature without its scents ? — and as long as they are ab-
Bent from our desserts, it is in vain that the bard exclaims —
< L'obseryatear de la belle Nature
S'extasie en Toyant des fleurs en confiture.'"
"It is an exquisite idea of yours," said Guloseton —
'' and the next time you dine here we will have perfumes.
Dinner ought to be a reunion of all the senses —
* Gladness to the ear, nerye, heart, ana sense.' "
ADVENTURES OP A GENTLEMAN. 19
There was a momentary pause. "My lord," said I,
'' what a lusty lusciousness in this pear I it is like the style
of the old English poets. What think you of the seeming
good understanding between Mr. Gaskell and the Whigs ?"
" I trouble myself little about it," replied Guioseton,
helping himself to some preserves — ** politics disturb the
digestion."
" Well," thought I, " I must ascertain some point in
this man's character easier to handle than his epicurism *
all men aro v:iin : let us find out the peculiar vanity of
mine host."
" The ultra-Tories," said I, " seem to think themselves
exceedingly secure ; they attach no importance to the
neutral members ; it was but the other day Lord
told me that he did not care a straw for Mr. ,
notwithstanding he possessed /our votes. Heard you ever
such arrogance ? "
" No, indeed," said Guioseton, with a lazy air of indif-
ference — " are you a favorer of the olive ?"
" No," said I, " I love it not ; it hath an under taste
of sourness, and an upper of oil, which do not make
harmony to my palate. But, as I was saying, the Whigs,
on the contrary, pay the utmost deference to their par-
tisans ; and a man of fortune, rank, and parliamentary
influence, might have all the power, without the trouble,
of a leader."
'*Yery likely," said Guioseton, drowsily.
"I must change my battery," thought I j but while I
was meditating a new attack, the following note was
brought me:
20 pelham; or,
" For Heaven's sake, Pelham, come out to me : I am
waiting in the street to see you ; come directly, or it will
be too late to render me the service I would ask of you.
" R. Glanville."
I rose instantly. " You must excuse me, Lord Gulose-
ton, I am called suddenly away."
" Ha I ha I " laughed the gourmand ; " some tempting
viand — post prandia Callirhoe I "
"" My good lord," said I, not heeding his insinuation
— "I leave you with the greatest regret."
** And I part from you with the same ; it is a real
pleasure to see such a person at dinner."
"Adieu I my host — ' Je vais vivre et manger en sage. ' '*
CHAPTER LIX.
I do defy him, and I spit at him,
Call him a slanderous coward and a villain —
Which to maintain I will allow him odds. — Shakspearb.
I FOUND Glanville walking before the door with a rapid
and uneven step.
" Thank Heaven 1 " he said, when he saw me ; "I have
been twice to Mivart's to find you. The second time, I
saw your servant, who told mc where you were gone. 1
knew you well enough to be sure of your kindness."
Glanville broke off abruptly ; and after a short pause.
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 21
Baid, with a quick, low, hurried tone — >* The office I wish
you to take upon yourself is this : — go immediately to
Sir John Tyrrell, with a challenge from me. Ever since
I last saw you, I have been hunting out that man, and in
vain. He had then left town. He returned this evening,
and quits it to-morrow : you have no time to lose."
" My dear Glanville," said I, " I have no wish to learn
any secret you would conceal from me ; but forgive me if
I ask some further instructions than those yon have afforded
me. Upon what plea am I to call out Sir John Tyrrell ?
and what answer am I to give to any excuses he may
make ? "
" I have anticipated your reply," said Glanville, with
ill-subdued impatience ; " you have only to give this paper :
it will prevent all discussion. Read it; I have left it
unsealed for that purpose."
I cast my eyes over the lines Glanville thrust into my
hand; they ran thus:
** The time has at length come for me to demand the
atonement so long delayed. The bearer of this, who is,
probably, known to you, will arrange, with any person you.
may appoint, the hour and place of our meeting. He ia
unacquainted with the grounds of my complaint against
you, but he is satisfied of my honor : your second will, 1
presume, be the same with respect to yours. It is for me
only to question the latter, and to declare you solemnly
to be void alike of principle and courage, a villain and a
poltroon.
"Reginald Glanville,"
22 telham; OB,
" You are my earliest friend," said I, when I had read
this soothing epistle ; '' and I will not flinch from the place
you assign me : but I tell you fairly and frankly, that I
would sooner cut off my right hand than suflfer it to give
this note to Sir John Tyrrell."
Glanville made no answer ; we walked on, till suddenly
stopping, he said, '* My carriage is at the corner of the
street ; you must go instantly ; Tyrrell lodges at the Cla-
rendon ; you will find me at home on your return."
I pressed hu hand, and hurried on my mission. It was,
I own, one peculiarly unwelcome and displeasing. In the
first place, I did not like to be made a party in a business
of the nature of which I was so profoundly ignorant.
Secondly, if the aflfair terminated fatally, the world would
not lightly condemn me for conveying to a gentleman of
birth and fortune, a letter so insulting, and for causes of
which I was so ignorant. Again, too, Glanville was more
dear to me than any one, judging only of my external
character, would suppose ; and, constitutionally indifferent
as I am to danger for myself, I trembled like a woman at
the peril I was instrumental in bringing upon him. But
what weighed upon me f6.r more than any of these reflec-
tions, was the recollection of Ellen. Should her brother fall
in an engagement in which I was his supposed adviser, with
what success could I hope for those feelings from her,
which, at present, constituted the tenderest and the bright-
est of my hopes ? In the midst of these disagreeable ideas,
«he carriage stopped at the door of TyrrelPs hotel.
The waiter said Sir John was in the coffee-room ; thither
ADVENTUBES OF A GENTLEMAN. 23
I immediately marched. Seated in the box nearest the
fire sat Tyrrell, and two men of that old-fashioned roit^
set, whose members indulged in debanchery, as if it were
an attribute of manliness, and esteemed it; as long as it
were hearty and English, rather a virtue to boast of, than
a vice to disown. Tyrrell nodded to me familiarly as I
approached him; and I saw, by the half-emptied bottles
before him, and the flush of his sallow countenance, that
he had not been sparing of his libations. I whispered
that I wished to speak to him on a subject of great impor-
tance ; he rose with much reluctance, and, after swallowing
a large tumbler-fuU of port wine to fortify him for the task,
he led the way to a small room, where he seated himself,
and asked me, with his usual mixture of bluntness and
good-breeding, the nature of my business. I made him
no reply : I contented myself with placing Glanville's billei
doux in his hand. The room was dimly lighted with a
single candle, and the small and capricious fire, near which
the gambler was seated, threw its upward light, by starts
and intervals, over the strong features and deep lines of
his countenance. It would have been a study worthy of
Rembrandt:
I drew my chair near him, and half shading my eyes
with my hand, sat down in silence to mark the effect the
letter would produce. Tyrrell (I imagine) was a man
originally of hardy nerves, and had been thrown much into
the various situations of life where the disguise of all
outward emotion is easily and insensibly taught; but
whether his frame had been shattered by his excesses, or
Z
24 pelham; on,
that the insulting language of the note touched him to tha
quick, he seemed perfectly unable to govern his feelings ;
the lines were written hastily, and the light, as I said
before, was faint and imperfect, and he was forced to
pause over each word as he proceeded, so that "the
iron" had full time to '<»enter into his soul."
Passion, however, developed itself less impetuously in
him than in Glanville : in the latter, it was a rapid transition
of powerful feelings, one angry wave dashing over another ;
it was the passion of a strong and keenly susceptible mind,
to which every sting was a dagger, and which used the
force of a giant to da8^ away the insect which attacked
it. In Tyrrell, it was passion acting on a callous mind
but a broken frame — his hand trembled violently — his
voice faltered — he could scarcely command the muscles
which enabled him to speak ; but there was no fiery start
W-. no indignant burst — no flashing forth of the soul: —
in him, it was the body overcoming and paralyzing the
mind ; in Glanville, it was the mind governing and con-
vulsing the body.
" Mr. Pelham," he said at last, after a few preliminary
efforts to clear his voice, ** this note requires some consi-
deration. I know not at present whom to appoint as my
second — will you call upon me early to-morrow ? "
" I am sorry," said I, " that my sole instructions were
to get an immediate answer from you. Surely either of
the gentlemen I saw with you would oflBciate as your
second ? "
Tyrrell made no reply for some moments. He was
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 25
endeavoring to compose himself, and in some measure he
succeeded. He raised his head with a haughty air of
defiance, and tearing the paper deliberately, though still
with uncertain and trembling fingers, he stamped his foot
upon the atoms.
" Tell your principal," said he, "that I retort upon him
the foul and false words he has uttered against me ; that
I trample upon his aspersions with the same scorn I feel
towards himself; and that before this hour to-morrow I
will confront him to death as through life. For the rest,
Mr. Pelham, I cannot name my second till the morning ;
leave me your address, and you shall hear from me before
you are stirring. Have you anything further with me 7 '
" Nothing," said I, laying my card on the table. •' I
have fulfilled the most ungrateful charge ever intrusted to
me. I wish you good night."
I re-entered the carriage, and drove to Glanville's. I
broke into the room rather abruptly ; Glanville was leaning
on the table, and gazing intently on a small miniature. A
pistol-case lay beside him : one of the pistols in order for
use, and the other still unarranged ; the room was, as usual,
covered with books and papers, and on the costly cushions
of the ottoman lay the large, black dog, which I remem-
bered well as his companion of yore, and which he kept
with him constantly, as the only thing in the world whose
society he could at all times bear : the animal lay curled
up, with its quick, black eye fixed watchfully upon its
master, and directly I entered, it uttered, though without
moving, a low, warning growl.
II. — 3
26 pelham; oB|
Glanville looked up, and in some confasion thrust the
picture into a drawer of the table, and asked me my news.
I told him word for word what had passed. Glanville set
his teeth, and clenched his hand firmly ; and then, as if
his anger was at once appeased, he suddenly changed the
subject and tone of our conversation. He spoke with
great cheerfulness an^ humor on the various topics of the
day ; touched upon politics ; laughed at Lord Guloseton,
and seemed as indifferent and unconscious of the event of
the morrow as my peculiar constitution would have ren*
dered myself.
When I rose to depart, for I had too great an interest
in him to feel much for the subjects he conversed on, he
said, " I shall write one line to my mother, and another
to my poor sister ; you will deliver them if I fall, for I
have sworn that one of us shall not quit the ground alive.
I shall be all impatience to know the hour you will arrange
with TyrrelPs second. God bless you, and farewell for
the present.''
ADYENTUBES OF A GENTLEMAN. 21
CHAPTER LX.
Charge, Chester, ohargel — MarnUon.
Though this was one of the first mercantile transactions of
my life, I had no doubt about acquitting myself with reputation.
Viear of Wakefield,
The next morning I was at breakfast, when a packet
was brought me from Tyrrell ; it contained a sealed letter
to Glanville, and a brief note to myself. The latter I tran-
scribe : —
" My DEAR Sib,
"The enclosed letter to Sir Reginald Glanville will
explain my reasons for not keeping my pledge : suffice it
to state to you, that they are such as wholly to exonorate
me, and fairly to satisfy Sir Reginald. It will be useless
to call upon me ; I leave town before you will receive this.
Respect for myself obliges me to add that, although there
are circumstances to forbid my meeting Sir Reginald
Olanville, there are none to prevent my demanding satis-
faction of any one, whoever he may be, who shall deem
himself authorized to call my motives into question.
" I have the honor, &c.
John Tyerell.''
It was not till I had thrice read this letter that I could
2S PEL ham; OB,
credit its contents. From all I had seen of TyrrelPs.charac-
ter, I had no reason to suspect him to be less courageons
than the generality of worldly men. And yet, when I con-
sidered the violent language of Glanville's letter, and Tyr-
relPs apparent resolution the night before, I scarcely knew
to what more honorable motive than the want of courage to
attribute his conduct. However, I lost no time in despatch-
ing the whole packet to Glanville, with a few lines from
myself, saying I would call in an hour.
When I fulfilled this promise, Glanville's servant told
me his master had gone out immediately on reading the
letters I had sent, and had merely left word that he should
not return home the whole day. That night he was to
have brought an important motion before the House. A
message from him, pleading sudden and alarming illness,
devolved this duty upon another member of his party.
Lord Dawton was in despair ; the motion was lost by a
great majority ; the papers, the whole of that week, were
filled with the most triumphant abuse and ridicule of the
Whigs. Never was that unhappy and persecuted party
reduced to so low an ebb : never did there seem a fainter
probability of their coming into power. They appeared
almost annihilated — a mere nominis umbra.
On the eighth day from Glanville's disappearance, a
sudden event in the cabinet threw the whole country into
confusion ; the Tories trembled to the very soles of their
easy slippers of sinecure and office ; the eyes of the public
were turned to the Whigs ; and chance seemed to effect
in an instant that change in their favor which all their toil.
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 29
trouble, eloquence, and art, had been unable for so many
years to render even a remote probability.
But there was a strong though secret party in the state
that, concealed under a general name, worked only for a
private end, and made a progress in number and respec-
tability, not the less sure for being but little suspected
Foremost among the leaders of this party was Lord Vin-
cent. Dawton, who regarded them with fear and jealousy,
considered the struggle rather between them and himself,
than any longer between himself and the Tories; an J
strove, while it was yet time, to reinforce himself by a
body of allies, which, should the contest really take place,
might be certain of giving him the superiority. The
Marquis of Chester was among the most powerful of the
neutral noblemen : it was of the greatest importance to
gain him to the cause. He was a sturdy, sporting, inde-
pendent man, who lived chiefly in the country, and turned
his ambition rather towards promoting the excellence of
quadrupeds, than the bad passions of men. To this per-
sonage Lord Dawton implored me to be the bearer of a
letter, and to aid, with all the dexterity in my power, the
purpose it was intended to effect. It was the most
consequential mission yet intrusted to me, and I felt eager
to turn my diplomatic energies to so good an account.
Accordicglj^, ^ne bright morning I wrapped myself care-
fully in my cloak, placed my invaluable person safely in
my carriage, and set off to Chester Park, in the county
of Suffolk.
3*
30 pelham; OB,
CHAPTER LXI.
Hinc canibus blandis rabies venit. — Viboil, Oeorg,
I SHOULD have mentioned, that the day after I sent to
Qlanville TyrrelPs communication, I received a short and
hurried note from the former, saying, that he had left
London in pursuit of Tyrrell, and that he would not rest
till he had brought him to account. In the hurry of the
public events in which I had been of late so actively en-
gaged, my mind had not had leisure to dwell much upon
Glanville ; but when I was alone in my carriage, that
singular being, and the mystery which attended him, forced
themselves upon my reflection, in spite of all the importance
of my mission.
I was leaning back in my carriage, at (I think) "Ware,
while they were changing horses, when a voice, strongly
associated with my meditations, struck upon my ear. I
looked out, and saw Thornton standing in the yard, attired
with all his original smartness of boot and breeches : he
was employed in smoking a cigar, sipping brandy and
water, and exercising his conversational talents in a mixture
of slang and jockeyism, addressed to two or three men of his
own rank of life, and seemingly his companions. His brisk
eye soon discovered me, and he swaggered to the carriage
door with that ineffable assurance of manner which was so
peculiarly his own.
ADVBNTURES OP A GENTLEMAN. 31
"Ah, ah, Mr. Pelham," said he, "going to Newmarket,
I suppose ? bound there myself — like to be found among
my betters. Ha, ha — excuse a pun: what odds on the
favorite ? What, you won't bet, Mr. Pelham f close and
sly at present ; well, the silent sow sups up all the broth
— eh I — " ^
" I'm not going to Newmarket," I replied : " I never
attend races."
" Indeed I " answered Thornton. " Well, if I was as
rich as you, I would soon make or spend a fortune on the
course. Seen Sir John Tyrrell ? Np 1 He is to be there.
Nothing can cure him of gambling — what's bred in the
bone, &c. Good day, Mr. Pelham — won't keep you any
longer — sharp shower coming on. *The devil will soon
be basting his wife with a leg of mutton,' as the proverb
Bays : — servant, Mr. Pelham. "
And at these words my post-boy started, and released
me from my bSte noire. I spare my reader an account of
my miscellaneous reflections on Thornton, Dawton, Vin-
cent, politics, Glanville, and Ellen, and will land him,
without further delay, at Chester Park.
I was ushered through a large oak hall of the reign of
James the First, into a room strongly resembling the
principal apartment of a club ; two or three round tables
were covered with newspapers, journals, racing calendars,
&c. An enormous fire-place was crowded with men of
all ages, I had almost said, of all ranks ; but, however
various they might appear in their mien and attire, they
were wholly of the patrician order. One thing, however,
.^2 pelham; OB,
in this room, belied its likeness to the apartment of a club,
viz., a namber of dogs, that lay in scattered groups npoa
the floor. Before the windows were several horses, in
body-cloths, led to exercise upon a plain in the park,
ieyelled as smooth as a bowling-green at Putney ; and,
stationed at an oriel window, in earnest attention to the
scene without, were two men ; the tallest of these was
Lord Chester. There was a stiffness and inelegance in
his address which prepossessed me strongly against him.
" Les manidres que Von niglige comme de petites choseSj
sont souvent ce qui fait que les hommea decident de vous
en Men ou en maV**
I had long since, when I was at the University, been
introduced to Lord Chester ; but I had quite forgotten
his person, and he the very circumstance. I said, in a low
tone, that I was the bearer of a letter of some -importance
from our mutual friend. Lord Dawton, and that I should
request the honor of a private interview at Lord Chester's
first convenience.
His lordship bowed, with an odd mixture of the civility
of a jockey and the hauteur of a head groom of the stud,
and led the way to a small apartment, which I afterwards
discovered he called his own. (I never could make out,
by the way, why, in England, the very worst room in
the house is always appropriated to the master of it, and
dignified by the appellation of *' the gentleman's own.")
* " The manners which one neglects as trifles, are often preciseh
that by which men decide on you favorably or the reverse."
ADYENTUREB OF A GENTLEMAN. 33
I gave the Newmarket grandee the letter intended for
him, and quietly seating myself, awaited the result.
He read it through slowly and silently, and then, taking
out a huge pocket-book, full of racing bets, horses' ages,
jockey opinions, and such like memoranda, he placed it
with much solemnity among this dignified company, and
said, with a cold, but would-be courteous air, " My friend,
Lord Dawton, says you are entirely in his confidence,
Mr. Pelham. I hope you will honor me with your com-
pany at Chester Park for two or three days, during which
time I shall have leisure to reply to Lord Dawton's letter.
Will you take some refreshment ? "
I answered the first sentence in the affirmative, and the
latter in the negative ; and Lord Chester, thinking it
perfectly unnecessary to trouble himself with any further
questions or remarks, which the whole jockey club might
not hear, took me back into the room we had quitted,
and left me to find, or make, whatever acquaintance I
could. Pampered and spoiled as I was in the most difficult
circles of London, I was beyond measure indignant at the
cavalier demeanor of this rustic thane, who, despite his
marquisate and his acres, was not less below me in the
aristocracy of ancient birth, than in that of cultivated
intellect. I looked round the room, and did not recognize
a being of my acquaintance : I seemed literally thrown
into a new world : the very language in which the con-
versation was held, sounded strange to my ear. I had
always transgressed my general rule of knowing all men in
all grades, in the single respect of sporting characters :
'
34 PELHAM; OB,
they were a species of bipeds that I would never recognize
as belonging to the human race. Alas 1 I now found the
bitter effects of not following my usual maxims. It is a
dangerous thing to encourage too great a disdain of one's
inferiors : pride must have a fall.
After I had been a whole quarter of an hour in this
strange place, my better genius came to my aid. Since I
found no society among the two-legged brutes, I turned
to the quadrupeds. At one corner of the room lay a black
terrier of the true English breed ; at another was a short,
sturdy, wiry one, of the Scotch. I soon formed a friend-
ship with each of these canine Felei, (little bodies with
great souls), and then by degrees alluring them from their
retreat to the centre of the room, I fairly endeavored to
set them by the ears. Thanks to the national antipathy,
I succeeded to my heart's content. The contest soon
aroused the other individuals of the genus — up they
started from their repose, like Roderic Dhu's merry men,
and incontinently flocked to the scene of battle. The
example became contagious. In a very few moments, the
whole room was a scene of uproarious confusion ; the
beasts yelled, and bit, and struggled with the most delect*
able ferocity. To add to the effect, the various owners
of the dogs crowded round — some to stimulate, others
to appease, the fury of the combatants. At length, the
conflict was assuaged. By dint of blows, and kicks, and
remonstrances from their dignified proprietors, the dogs
slowly withdrew, one with the loss of half an ear, another
with a mouth increased by one-half of its natural dimen>
ADVENTURES Of A GENTLEMAN. 35
bIods, and, in short, every one of the combatants with some
token of the severity of the conflict I did not wait for
the thunder-storm I foresaw in the inquiry as to the origin
of the war : I rose with a nonchalant yawn of ennui,
marched out of the apartment, called a servant, demanded
my own room, repaired to it, and immersed the internal
faculties of my head in Mignet's History of the Revolution,
while Bedos busied himself in its outward embellishment.
CHAPTER LXII.
Noster ludos, spectaverat uni,
Luserat in campo, FortunsB filius, omnes. — Hob.
I DID not leave my room till the first dinner-bell had
ceased a sufficient time to allow me the pleasing hope that
I should have but a few moments to wait in the drawing-
room, previously to the grand epoch and ceremony of an
European day. The manner most natural to me, is one
rather open and easy ; but I pique myself peculiarly upon
a certain (though occasional) air which keeps impertinence
aloof. This day I assumed a double quantum of dignity,
in entering a room which I well knew would not be filled
with my admirers ; there were a few women around Lady
Chester, and, as I always feel reassured by a sight of the
dear sex, I walked towards them.
Judge of my delight, when I discovered, amongst the
group, Lady Harriet Garrett. It is true that I had no
35 pelham; OB,
particular predilection for that lady ; but the sight of a
negress I had seen before, I should have hailed with rap-
ture in so desolate and inhospitable a place. If my plea-
sure at seeing Lady Harriet was great, her's seemed equally
so at receiving my salutation. She asked me if I knew
Ijady Chester — and on my negative reply, immediately
introduced me to that personage. I now found myself
quite at home ; my spirits rose, and I exerted every nerve
to be as charming as possible. — In youth, to endeavor is
to succeed.
I gave a most animated account of the canine battle,
interspersed with various sarcasms on the owners of the
combatants, which were by no means ill-received either
by the marchioness or her companions ; and, in fact, when
the dinner was announced, they all rose in a mirth suffi-
ciently unrestrained to be anything but partician : for my
part, I offered my arm to Lady Harriet, and paid her as
many compliments on crossing the suite that led to the
dining-room, as would have turned a much wiser head than
her ladyship's.
The dinner went off agreeably enough, as long as the
women stayed, but the moment they quitted the room, I
experienced exactly the same feeling known unto a mother's
darling, left for the first time at that strange, cold, com-
fortless place — ycleped a school.
I was not, however, in a mood to suffer my flowers of
oratory to blush unseen. Besides, it was absolutely neces-
sary that I should make a better impression upon my host.
I leant, therefore, across the table, and listened eagerly
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN, 31
to the varioas conversations afloat : at last I perceived on
the opposite side Sir Lionel Garrett, a personage whom
I had not before even inquired after, or thought of. He
was busily and noisily employed in discussing the game«
laws. Thank Heaven, thought I, I shall be on firm ground
there. The general interest of the subject, and the loud-
ness with which it was debated, soon drew all the scattered
conversation into one focus.
** What 1 " said Sir Lionel, in a high voice, to a modest,
shrinking youth, probably from Cambridge, who had sup-
ported the liberal side of the question — " what I are our
interests to be never consulted ? Are we to have our only
ttmusement taken away from us ? What do you imagine
brings country gentlemen to their seats? Do you not
know, sir, the vast importance our residence at our country
houses is to the nation ? Destroy the game-laws, and you
destroy our very existence as a people 1 "
"Now," thought I, "it is my time." "Sir Lionel,"
said I, speaking almost from one end of the table to the
other, " I perfectly agree with your sentiments ; I am
entirely of opinion, first, that it is absolutely necessary for
the safety of the nation that game should be preserved ;
secondly, that if you take away game you take country
gentlemen : no two propositions can be clearer than these ;
but I do differ from you with respect to the intended
alterations. Let us put wholly out the question, the inte-
rests of the poor people, or of society at large : those are
minor matters, not worthy of a moment's consideration ;
lot ns only see how far our interests as sportsmen will be
IL — 4
38 pelham; ob,
affected. I think by a very few words I can clearly prove
to yoa, that the proposed alterations will make us much
better off than we are at present."
I then entered shortly, yet fully enough, into the nature
of the laws as they now stood, and as they were intended
to be changed. I first spoke of the two great disadvan-
tages of the present system to country gentlemen ; viz. in
the number of poachers, and the expense of preserving.
Observing that I was generally and attentively listened
to, I dwelt upon these two points with much pathetic
energy ; and having paused till I had got Sir Lionel and
one or two of his supporters to confess that it would be
highly desirable that these defects should, if possible ^ be
remedied, I proceeded to show how, and in what manner
it was possible. I argued, that to effect this possibility
was the exact object of the alterations suggested ; I anti-
cipated the objections; I answered- them in the form of
propositions as clearly and concisely stated as possible ;
and as I spoke with great civility and conciliation, and
put aside every appearance of care for any human being
in the world who was not possessed of a qualification, I
perceived at the conclusion of my harangue that I had
made a very favorable impression. That evening com-
pleted my triumph : for Lady Chester and Lady Harriet
made so good a story of my adventure with the dogs, that
the matter passed off as a famous joke, and I was soon
considered by the whole knot as a devilish amusing, good-
natured, sensible fellow. So true is it that there is no
situation which a little tact cannot turn to our own
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 3&
accoant : manage yourself well, and yon may manage all
the world.
As for Lord Chester, I soon won his heart by a few
feats of horsemanship, and a few extempore inventions
respecting the sagacity of dogs. Three days after my
arrival, we became inseparable ; and I made such good
Dse of my time, that in two more, he spoke to me of his
friendship for Dawton, and his wish for a dakedom. These
motives it was easy enough to unite, and at last he pro-
mised me that his answer to my principal should be as
acquiescent as I could desire ; the morning after this
promise commenced the grecU day at Newmarket.
Our whole party were of course bound to the race-
ground, and with great reluctance I was pressed into the
service. We were not many miles distant from the course,
and Lord Chester mounted me. on one of his horses. Our
shortest way lay through rather an intricate series of cross
roads : and as I was very little interested in the conversa-
tion of my companions, I paid more attention to the
scenery we passed, than is my customary wont : for I study
Nature rather in men than fields, and find no landscape
afford such variety to the eye, and such subject to the
contemplation, as the inequalities of the human heart.
But there were to be fearful circumstances hereafter, to
stamp forcibly, upon my remembrance some traces of the
scenery which now courted and arrested my view. The
chief characteristics of the country were broad, dreary
plains, diversified at times by dark plantations of fir and
larch 'f the road was rough and stony, and here and there
2a
40 pelham; OB,
B melancholy rivulet, swelled by the first rains of spring,
crossed our path, and lost itself in the rank weeds of somt
inhospitable marsh.
About six miles from Chester Park, to the left of the
road, stood an old house with a new face ; the brown,
time-honored bricks which composed the fabric, were
strongly contrasted by large Venetian windows newly
inserted in frames of the most ostentatious white. A
smart, green veranda, scarcely finished, ran along the low
portico, and formed the termination to two thin rows of
meagre and dwarfish sycamores, which did duty for an
avenue, and were bounded on the roadside by a spruce
white gate, and a sprucer lodge, so moderate in its dimen-
sions, that it would scarcely have boiled a turnip I — if a
rat had got into it, he might have run away with it I
The ground was dug in various places, as if for the purpose
of further improvements, and here and there a sickly little
tree was carefully hurdled round, and seemed pining its
puny heart out at the confinement.
In spite of all these well-judged and well-thriving graces
of art, there was such a comfortless and desolate appear-
ance about the place, that it quite froze one to look at it ;
to be sure, a damp marsh on one side, and the skeleton
rafters and beams of an old stable on the other, backed
by a few dull and sulky-looking fir-trees, might in some
measure create, or at least considerably add to, the in^^le-
scribable cheerlessness of the tout ensemble. While I was
curiously surveying the various parts of this northern "/\^.
liceBf^^ and marvelling at the choice of two crows > iio
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 4i
were slowly walking over the unwholesome ground, instead
of making all possible use of the black wings with which
Providence had gifted them, I perceived two men on
horseback wind round from the back part of the building,
and proceed in a brisk trot down the avenue. We had
not advanced many paces before they overtook us ; the
foremost of them turned round as he passed me, and
pulling up his horse abruptly, discovered to my dismayed
view the features of Mr. Thornton. Nothing abashed by
the slightness of my bow, or the grave stares of my lordly
companions, who never forgot the dignity of their birth,
in spite of the vulgarity of their tastes, Thornton instantly
and familiarly accosted me.
*' Told you so, Mr. Pelham — silent sow, doc, — Sure I
should have the pleasure of seeing you, though you kept
it so snug. Well, will you bet now f No I — Ah, you're
a sly one. Staying here at that nice-looking house —
belongs to Dawson, an old friend of mine — shall be happy
to introduce you 1 "
" Sir," said I, abruptly, " you are too good. Permit
me to request that you will rejoin your friend Mr. Dawson."
** Oh,'' said the imperturbable Thornton, "it does not
signify ; he won't be affronted at my lagging a little.
However," (and here he caught my eye, which was assum-
ing a sternness that perhaps little pleased him,) '' however,
as it gets late, and my mare is nojie of the best, I'll wish
yoQ good morning." With these words Thornton put spurs
to his horse and trotted off.
4*
42 pelham; or,
*' Who the devil have you got there, Pelham 7 " said
Lord Chester.
''A person," said I, ** who picked me up at Paris, and
insists on the right of * treasure trove ' to claim me in
England. Bat will you let me ask, in my turn, whom that
cheerful mansion we have just left, belongs to ? "
''To a Mr. Dawson, whose' father was a gentlema^i
farmer who bred horses, a very respectable person, — for
I made one or two excellent bargains with him. The son
was always on the turf and contracted the worst of its
habits. He bears but a very indififerent character, and
will probably become a complete blackleg. He married,
a short time since, a woman of some fortune, and I sup-
pose it is her taste which has so altered and modernized
his house. Come, gentlemen, we are on even ground —
shall we trot?"
We proceeded but a few yards before we were again
stopped by a precipitous ascent, and as Lord Chester was
then earnestly engaged in praising his horse to one of the
cavalcade, I had time to remark the spot. At the foot
of the hill we were about slowly to ascend, was a broad,
unenclosed patch of waste land ; a heron, flapping its
enormous wings as it rose, directed my attention to a pool
overgrown with rushes, and half-sheltered on one side by
a decayed tree, which, if one might judge from the breadth
and hollo wn ess of its trunk, had been a refuge to the wild
bird,>nd a shelter to the wild cattle, at a time when such
were the only intruders upon its hospitality ; and when
the country, for miles and leagues round, was honored by
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 43
as little of man's care and cultivation as was at present
the rank waste which still nourished the gnarled and
venerable roots of that single tree. There was something
remarkably singular and grotesque in the shape and
sinuosity of its naked and spectral branches ; two of ex-
ceeding length stretched themselves forth, in the very
semblance of arms held out in the attitude of supplication ;
and the bend of the trunk over the desolate pond, .the
form of the hoary and blasted summit, and the hollow
trunk half riven asunder in the shape of limbs, seemed to
favor the gigantic deception. You might have imagined
it an antediluvian transformation, or a daughter of the
Titan race, preserving, in her metamorphosis, her attitude
of entreaty to the merciless Olympian.
This was the only tree visible ; for a turn of the road,
and the unevenness of the ground, completely veiled the
house we had passed, and the few low firs and sycamores
which made its only plantations. The sullen pool — its
ghost-like guardian — the dreary heath around, the rude
features of the country beyond, and the apparent absence
of all human habitation, conspired to make a scene of the
most dispirting and striking desolation. I know not
how to account for it, but, as I gazed around in silence,
the whole place appeared to grow over my mind, as one
which I had seen, though dimly and drearily, as in a
dream, before ; and a nameless and unaccountable presen-
timent of fear and evil sank like ice into my heart. We
ascended the hill, and, the rest of the road being of a kind
i4 pelham; or,
bettter adapted to expedition, we mended oar pace and
soon arnved at the goal of our journey.
The raoe-ground had its customary complement of
knaves and fools — the dupers and the duped. Poor Lady
Chester, who had proceeded to the ground by the high
road (for the way we had chosen was inaccessible to those
who ride in chariots, and whose charioteers are set up in
high places,) was driving to and fro, the very picture of
cold and discomfort ; and the few solitary carriages which
honored the course, looked as miserable as if they were
witnessing the funeral of their owners' persons, rather
than the peril of their characters and purses.
As we rode along the betting-post. Sir John Tyrrell
passed us : Lord Chester accosted him familiarly, and the
baronet joined us. He had been a votary of the turf
in his younger days, and he still preserved all his ancient
predilection in its favor.
It seemed that Chester had not met him for many years,
and after a short and characteristic conversation of *t God
bless me, how long since I saw you I — good horse you're
on ; — look thin ; — admirable condition ; — what have
you been doing? — grand action ; — a'n't we behindhand ?
— famous fore-hand ; — recollect old Queensbury ? — hot
in the mouth ; — gone to the devil ; — what are the odds ? *'
Lord Chester asked Tyrrell to go home with us. The
invitation was readily accepted.
"With impotence of will
We wheel, though ghastly shadows interpose
Bound us, and round each other."*
*Shelley.
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 45
Now, then, arose the noise, the clatter, the swearing,
the lying, the perjury, the cheating, the crowd, the bustle,
the hurry, the rush, the heat, the ardor, the impatience,
the hope, the terror, the rapture, the agony of the rage.
The instant the first heat was over, one asked me one
thing, one bellowed another ; I fled to Lord Chester : he
did not heed me. I took refuge with the marchioness ;
she was as sullen as an east wind could make her. Lady
Harriet would talk of nothing but the horses : Sir Lionel
would not talk at all. I was in the lowest pit of despond-
ency, and the devils that kept me there were as blue as
Lady Chester's nose. Silent^ sad, sorrowful, and sulky,
I rode away from the crowd, and moralized on its vicious
propensities. Que grows marvellously honest when the
species of cheating before us is not suited to one's self.
Fortunately, my better angel reminded me, that about the
distance of three miles from the course lived an old college
friend, blessed, since we had met, with a parsonage and a
wife. I knew his tastes too well to imagine that any
allurement of an equestrian nature could have seduced
him from the ease of his library and the dignity of his
books ; and hoping, therefore, that I should find him at
home, turned my horse \ head in an opposite direction,
and, rejoiced at the idea of my escape, bade adieu to the
course.
As I cantered across the far end of the heath, my horse
started from an object upon the ground ; it was a man
wrapped from head to foot in a long horseman's cloak
and so weL guarded as to the face, from the raw inclem
*6 PELHAM; OR,
ency of the day, that I could not catch even a glimpse of
the features, through the hat and neck-shawl which con-
cealed them. The head was tnrned, with apparent anxiety,
towards the distant throng ; and imagining the man
belonging to the lower orders, with wh'bm I am always
familiar, I addressed to him, en passantf some trifling
remark on the event of the race. He made no answer.
There was something about him which induced me to look
back several moments after I had left him behind. He
had not moved an inch. There is such a certain uncom-
fortableness always occasioned to the mind by stillness
and mystery united, that even the disguising garb, and
motionless silence of the man, innocent as I thought they
must have been, impressed themselves disagreeably on my
meditations as I rode briskly on.
It is my maxim never to be unpleasantly employed, even
in thought, if I can help it ; accordingly I changed the
course of my reflection, and amused myself with wondering
how matrimony and clerical dignity sat on the indolent
shoulders of my old acquaintance.
▲dvjbntukbs of a qbntleman. 41
CHAPTER LXIII.
And as for me, tho' that I can but lite
On book^s for me to read, I me delight.
And to hem give I faith and full credence,
And in mine heart have hem in reyerenoe.
So heartily that there is gam^ none,
That fro' my book^s maketh me to gone. — Chaucxb.
Christopher Clutterbuck was a common individual
of a common order, but little known in this busy and
toiling world. I cannot flatter myself that I am about to
present to your notice that vara ams, a new character —
yet there is something interesting, and even unhackneyed,
in the retired and simple class to which he belongs : and
before I proceed to a darker period of my memoirs, I feel
a calm and tranquillizing pleasure in the rest which a brief
and imperfect delineation of my college companion affords
me. My friend came up to the University with the learn-
ing which one about to quit the world might, with credit,
have boasted of possessing, and the simplicity which one
about to enter it would have been ashamed to confess.
Quiet and shy, in his habits and his manners, he was never
seen out of the precincts of his apartment, except in
obedience to the stated calls of dinner, lectures, and
chapel. Then his small and stooping form might be
marked, crossing the quadrangle with a hurried step, and
cautiously avoiding the smallest blade of the barren grass-
48 pelham; ob^
plots, which are forbidden ground to the feet of all the
lower orders of the collegiate oligarchy. Many were the
smiles and the jeers, from the worse natnred and better
appointed stndents, who loitered idly along the court, at
the rade garb and saturnine appearance of the humble
nnder-gradnato ; and the calm countenance of the grave,
but amiable man, who then bore the honor and onus of
mathematical lecturer at our college, would soften into a
glance of mingled approbation and pity, as he noted the
eagerness which spoke from the wan cheek and emaciated
frame of the ablest of his pupils, hurrying — after each
legitimate interruption — to the enjoyment of the crabbed
characters and worm-worn volumes, which contained for
him all the seductions of pleasure, and all the temptations
of youth.
It is a melancholy thing, which none but those educated
at a college can understand, to see the debilitated frames
of the aspirants for academical honors ; to mark the prime
—the verdure — the glory — the life — of life wasted
irrevocably away in a labor inepHarum, which brings no
harvest either to others or themselves. For the poet, the
philosopher, the man of science, we can appreciate the
recompense if we commiserate the sacrifice; from the
darkness of their retreat there goes a light — from the
silence of their studies there issues a voice, — to illumine
or convince. We can imagine them looking from their
privations to the far visions of the future, and hugging to
their hearts, in the strength of no unnatural vanity, the
reward which their labors are certain hereafter to obtain.
ADVBNTURES OP A GENTLEMAN. 49
To those who can anticipate tbe vast dominions of im-
mortality among men, what boots the sterility of the
cabined and "peitj present ? But the mere man of lan-
gnages and learning — the machine of a memory heavily
bat unprofitably employed — the Colambns wasting at
the galley oar the energies which should have discovered
a world — for him there is no day-dream of the future, no
grasp at the immortality of fame. Beyond the walls of
his narrow room he knows no object ; beyond the eluci-
dation of a dead tongue he indulges no ambition ; his life
is one long school-day of lexicons and grammars — a
Fabric of Ice, cautiously excluded from a. single sun-
beam — elaborately useless, ingeniously unprofitable ; and
leaving, at the moment it melts -away, not a single trace
of the space it occupied, or the labor it cost.
At the time I went to the University, my poor collegian
had attained all the honors his employment could ever
procure him. He had been a Pitt scholar ; he was a senior
wrangler, and a Fellow of his college. It often happened
that I found myself next to him at dinner, and I was struck
by his abstinence, and pleased with his modesty, despite
the gaucherie of his manner, and the fashion of his garb.
By degrees I insinuated myself into his acquaintance ; and
ais I had always some love of scholastic lore, I took
frequent opportunities of conversing with him upon
Horac^e, and consulting him upon Lucian.
Many a dim twilight have we sat together, reviving
each other's recollection, and occasionally relaxing into
ihe grave amusement of capping verses. Then, if by any
IL— 5
56 pelham; ob.
chance my ingenaity or memory enabled me to puzzle my
companion, his good temper woald lose itself in a qaaint
pettishness, or he would hurl against me some line of
Aristophanes, and ask me, with a raised voice, and arched
brow, to give him a fitting answer to that. But if, as was
much more frequently the case, he fairly ran me down
into a pause and confession of inability, he would rub his
hands with a strange chuckle, and offbr me, in the boun-
teousness of his heart, to read aloud a Greek- Ode of his
own, while he treated me "to a dish of tea." There was
much in the good man's innocence, and guilelessness of soul,
which made me love him, and I did not rest till I had
procured him, before I left the University, the living which
he now held. Since th'en, he married the daughter of a
neighboring clergyman, an event of which he had duly
informed me ; but, though this great step in the life of " a
reading man " had not taken place many months since, I
had completely, after a hearty wish for his domestic hap-
piness, consigned it to a dormant place in my recollection.
The house which I now began to approach was small,
but comfortable ; perhaps there was something melancholy
in the old-fashioned hedges, cut and trimmed with mathe-
matical precision, which surrounded the glebe, as well as
in the heavy architecture and dingy bricks of the reverend
recluse's habitation. To make amends for this, there was
also something peculiarly still and placid about the ap-
pearance of the house, which must have suited well the
tastes and habits of the owner. A small, formal lawn was
adorned with a square fish-pond, bricked rourd, and
ADVENTURES OP A GENTLEMAN. 51
covered with the green weepings of four willows, which
drooped over it from their station at each corner. At
the opposite side of this Pierian reservoir, was a hermitage,
or arbor of laurels, shaped in the stiff rusticity of the
Dutch school, in the prevalence of which it was probably
planted; behind this arbor, the ground, after a slight
railing, terminated in an orchard.
The sound I elicited from the gate bell seemed to ring
through that retired place with singular shrillness ; and I
observed at the opposite window, all that bustle of drawing
curtains, peeping faces, and hasty retreats, which denote
female anxiety and perplexity, at the unexpected approach
of a stranger.
After some time the parson's single servant, a middle-
aged, slovenly man, in a loose frock, and grey kerseymere
nondescripts, opened the gate, and informed me that his
master was at home. With a few earnest admonitions
to my admitter — who was, like the domestics of many
richer men, both groom and valet — respecting the safety
of my borrowed horse, I entered the house : the servant
did not think it necessary to inquire my name, but threw
open the door of the study, with the brief introduction of
—"A gentleman, sir."
Clutterbuck was standing, with his back towards me,
upon a pair of library steps, turning over some dusky
volumes ; and below stood a pale, cadaverous youth, with
a set and serious countenance, that bore no small likeness
to Clutterbuck himself.
*' Mon Dieu,^^ thought I, " he cannot have made such
52 pelham; or,
good ase of his matrimonial state as to have raised tbis
lanky impression of himself in the space of seven months I "
The good man tnrned round, and almost fell off the steps
with the nervous shock of beholding me so near him ; he
descended with precipitation, and shook me so warmly
and tightly by the hand, that he brought tears into mj
eyes, as well as his own.
"Gently, my good friend," said I — **parcej precor,
or you will force me to say, * ibimus und ambo, fientes
valido connexi foedere.' "
Clutterbuck's eyes watered still more, when he heard
the grateful sounds of what to him was the mother tongue.
He surveyed me from head to foot with an air of benign
and fatherly complacency, and dragging forth from its
sullen rest a large arm-chair, on whose cushions of rusty
horse-hair sat an eternal cloud of classic dust, too sacred
to be disturbed, he plumped me down upon it, before I
was aware of the cruel hospitality.
" Oh I my nether garments," thought I. " Quantum sudor
inerit BedosOj to. restore you to your pristine purity I "
" But whence come you ? " said my host, who cherished
rather a formal and antiquated method of speech.
*' From the Pythian games," said I ; " the campus hight
Newmarket. Do I see right, or is not yon insignis
juvenis marvellously like you ? Of a surety he rivals the
Titans, if he is only a seven months* child I "
" Now, truly, my worthy friend," answered Clutterbuck,
" you indulge in jesting 1 The boy is my nephew, a goodly
child, and pains-taking I hope he will thrive at our gentle
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 5?
mother. He goes to Trinity next October. Benjamin
Jeremiah, my lad, this is my worthy friend and benefactor,
of whom I have often spoken ; go, and order him of our
best — he will partake of our repast!"
'* No, really," I began ; but Clutterbuck gently placed
the hand, whose strength of affection I had already so
forcibly experienced, upon my mouth. " Pardon me, my
friend," said he. " No stranger should depart till he had
broken bread with us ; how much more than a friend I
Go, Benjamin Jeremiah, and tell your aunt that Mr. Pel-
bam will dine with us ; and order, furthermore, that the
barrel of oysters sent unto us as a present, by my worthy
friend Dr. Swallow'em, be dressed in the fashion that
seemeth best ; they are a classic dainty, and we shall think
of our great masters the ancients whilst we devour them.
And — stop, Benjamin Jeremiah, see that we have the
wine with the black seal; and — now — go, Benjamin
Jeremiah I "
" Well, my old friend," said I, when the door closed
upon the sallow and smileless nephew, *' how do you love
the connubial yoke ? Do you give the same advice as
Socrates ? I hope, at least, it is not from the same ex-
perience."
*' Hem 1 " answered the grave Christopher, in a tone that
struck me as somewhat nervous and uneasy, "you are
become quite a humorist since we parted. I suppose you
have been warming your wit by the lambent fires of
Horace and Aristophanes I "
"No," said I, "the living allow those whose toilsome
6*
6$ pelham; or,
lot it is to miz constantly with them, bat little time to
«
study the monuments of the dead. Bat, in sober earnest^
are yoa as happy as I wish you ? "
Clutterbuck looked down for a moment, and then,
turning towards the table, laid one haad upon a manuscript,
and pointed with the other to his books. **With this
society," said he, " how can I be otherwise ? "
I gave him no reply, but put my hand upon his manu-
script. He made a modest and coy effort to detain it, but
I knew that writers were like women, and, making use of
no displeasing force, I possessed myself of the paper.
It was a treatise on the Greek participle. My heart
sickened within me ; but, as I caught the eager glance of
the poor author, I brightened up my countenance into an
expression of pleasure, and appeared to read and comment
upon the difficiles nugos with an interest commensurate
to his own. Meanwhile the youth returned. He had
much of that delicacy of sentiment which always accompa-
nies mental cultivation, of whatever sort it may be. He
went, with a scarlet blush over his thin face, to his uncle,
and whispered something in bis ^ar, which, from the angry
embarrassment it appeared to occasion, I was at no loss
to divine.
"Come," said I, "we are too long acquainted for
ceremony. Your placens uxor^ like all ladies in the same
predicament, thinks your invitation a little unadvised ;
and, in real earnest, I have so long a ride to perform,
that I would rather eat your oysters another day I "
"No, no," said Clutterbuck, with greater eagerness
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 6ft.
than his even temperament was often hurried into betraying
— "no, I will go and reason with her myself. * Wives,
obey your husbands/ saith the preacher I " And the
quondam senior wrangler almost upset his chair in the
perturbation with which he arose from it
I laid my hand upon him. '' Let me go myself," said I^
" since you will have ine dine with you. * The sex is ever
to a stranger kind, ' and I shall probably be more persuasive
than you, in despite of your legitimate authority."
So saying, I left the room, with a curiosity more painful
than pleasing, to see the collegian's wife. I arrested the
man-servant, and ordered him to usher and announce me.
I was led instanter into the apartment where I had
discovered all the signs of female ihquisitiveness, which I
have before detailed. There I discovered a small woman,
in a robe equally slatternly and fine, with a sharp pointed
nose, small, cold, grey eyes, and a complexion high towards
the cheek-bones, but waxing of a light green before it
reached the wide and querulous mouth, which, well I ween,
seldom opened to smile upon the unfortunate possessor of
her charms. She, like the Rev. Christopher, was not
without her companions ; a tall meagre woman, of ad-
vanced age, and a girl, some years younger than herself,
were introduced to me as her mother and sister.
My entr^ occasioned no little confusion, but I knew well
bow to remedy that. I held out my hand so cordially to
ths wife, that I enticed, though with evident reluctance,
two bony fingers into my own, which I did not dismiss
without a most mollifying and affectionate squeeze ; and
2b
66 pelham; or,
drawing my chair close towards her, began conversing aa
familiarly as if I had known the whole triad for years. I
declared my joy at seeing my old friend so happily settled
— commented on the improvement of his looks — ventured
a sly joke at the good effects of matrimony — praised a
cat couchant, worked in worsted by the venerable hand of
the eldest matron — offered to procure her a real cat of
the true Persian breed, black ears four inches long, with
a tail like a squirrel's ; and then slid, all at once, into
the unauthorized invitation of the good man of the house.
" Clutterbuck," said I, " has asked me very warmly to
stay dinner ; but, before I accepted his offer, I insisted
upon coming to see how far it was confirmed by you.
Gentlemen, you are aware, my dear Madam, know nothing
of these matters, and I never accept a married man's in-
vitation till it has the sanction of his lady ; I have an
example of that at home. My mother (Lady Frances)
is the best-tempered woman in the world : but my father
could no more take the liberty (for I may truly call it
such) to ask even his oldest friend to dinner, without
consulting the mistress of the house., than he could think
of flying. No one (says my mother, and she says what
is very true), can tell about the household affairs, but
those who have the management of them ; and in persu-
ance of this aphorism, I dare not accept any invitation in
this house, except from its mistress."
"Really," said Mrs. Clutterbuck, coloring, with mingled
embarrassment and gratification, "you are very consid-
erate and polite, Mr. Pelham : I only wish Mr. Clutterbuck
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. b\
paid half your attention to these things ; nobody can tell
the trouble and inconvenience he puts me to. If I h(id
known, a little time before, that you were coming — but
now I fear we have nothing in the house ; but if you can
partake of our fare, such as it is, Mr. Pelham — "
" Your kindness enchants me," I exclaimed, " and I no
longer scruple to confess the pleasure I have in accepting
my old friend's offer."
This affair being settled, I continued to converse for
some minutes with as much vivacity as I could summon to
my aid, and when I went once more to the library, it was
with the comfortable impression of having left those as
friends, whom I had visited as foes.
The dinner hour was four, and, till it came, Olutterbuck
and I amused ourselves "in commune wise and sage."
There was something high in the sentiments and generous
in the feelings of this man, which made me the more regret
the bias of mind which rendered them so unavailing. At
college he had never (illis dissimilis in noatro tempore
natis !) cringed to the possessors of clerical power. In
the duties of his station as dean of the college, he was
equally strict to the black cap and the lordly hat. Nay,
when one of his private pupils, whose father was possessed
of more church preferment than any nobleman in the
peerage, disobeyed his repeated summons, and constantly
neglected to attend his instructions, he sent for him, re-
signedT his tuition, and refused any longer to accept a
salary which the negligence of his pupil would not allow
him to requite. In his clerical tenets he was high : in hii
58 PELHAM; OR,
judgment of others he was mild. His knowledge of the
liberty of Greece was not drawn from the ignorant histo-
rian of her Kepublics ; * nor did he find in the contem*
plative mildness and gentle philosophy of the ancients,
nothing bat a sanction for modern bigotry and existing
abases.
It was a remarkable trait in his conyersation, that
though he indalged in many references to the old anthors,
and allusions to classic customs, he never deviated into
the innumerable quotations with which his memory was
stored. No words, in spite of all the quaintness and an*
tiquity of his dialect, purely Latin or Greek, ever escaped
his lips, except in our engagements at capping verses, or
when he was allured into accepting a challenge of learning
from some of its pretenders ; then, indeed, he could pour
for£h such a torrent of authorities as effectually silenced
his opponent ; but these contests were rarely entered into,
and these triumphs moderately indulged. Yet he loved
the use of quotations in others, and I knew the greatest
pleasure I could give him was in the frequent use of them.
Perhaps he thought it would seem like an empty parade
of learning in one who so confessedly possessed it, to deal
in the strange words of another tongue, and consequently
rejected them, while, with an innocent inconsistency,
* It IB really a disgrace to our Univeraity, that any of its ooUegei
should accept as a reference, or even tolerate as an author, the
presumptuous bigot who has bequeathed to us, in his History of
Greece, the masterpiece of a declaimer without energy, and of ■
pedant without learning.
ADVENTUBES OF A GENTLEMAN. 61*
characteristic of the man, it never occurred to him that
there was any thing, either in the quaintness of his dialect
or the occupations of his leisure, which might subject him
to the same imputation of pedantry.
And yet, at times, when he warmed in his subject, there
was a tone in his language as well as sentiment, which
might not be improperly termed eloquent ; and the real
modesty and quiet enthusiasm of his nature, took away,
from the impression he made, the feeling of pomposity
and aflfectation with which otherwise he might have in-
spired you.
" You have a calm and quiet habitation here," said I ;
'Hhe very rooks seem to have something lulling in that
venerable caw which it always does me such good to
hear."
"Yes," answered Clutterbuck, " I own that there is
much that is grateful to the temper of my mind in this
retired spot. I fancy that I can the better give myself
up to the contemplation which makes, as it were, my in-
tellectual element and food. And yet I dare say that in
this (as in all other things) I do strongly err; for 1
remember that during my only sojourn in London, I waa
wont to feel the sound of wheels and of the throng of steps
shake the windows of my lodging in the Strand, as if it
were but a warning to recall my mind more closely to its
studies : — of a verity that noisy evidence of man's labor
reminded me how little the great interests of this rolling
world were to me, and the feeling of solitude amongst the
crowds without, made me cling more fondly to the company
60 pelham; or,
I found within. For it seems that the mind is ever ad-
dicted to contraries, and that when it be transplanted into
a soil where all its neighbors do produce a certain fruit,
it doth, from a strange perversity, bring forth one of a
different sort. You would little believe, my honored
friend, that in this lonely seclusion, I cannot at all times
prohibit my thoughts from wandering to that gay world
of London, which, during my tarry therein, occupied them
in so partial a degree. You smile, my friend, nevertheless
it is true ; and when you reflect that I dwelt in the western
department of the metropolis, near unto the noble mansion
of Somerset House, and consequently in the very centre of
what the idle call Fashion, you will not be so surprised
at the occasional migration of my thoughts."
Here the worthy Clutterbuck paused and sighed slightly.
" Do you farm, or cultivate your garden," said I ; "they
are no ignoble nor unclassical employments?"
"Unhappily," answered Clutterbuck, "I am inclined to
neither ; my chest pains me with a sharp and piercing pang
when I attempt to stoop, and my respiration is short and
asthmatic ; and, in truth, I seldom love to stir from my
books and papers. I go with Pliny to his garden, and
with Yirgil to his farm ; those mental excursions are the
sole ones I indulge in ; and when I think of my appetite
for application, and my love of idleness, I am tempted to
wax proud of the propensities which reverse the censure of
Tacitus on our German ancestors, and incline so fondly to
quiet, while they turn so restlessly from sloth."
Here the speaker was interrupted by a long, low, dry
)
ADVENTURES OF A QENTLEMAJf. 61
congb, which penetrated me to the heart. "Alas 1 "
thought I, as I heard it, and looked upon my poor friend's
hectic and hollow cheek, " it is not only his mind that will
be the victim to the fatality of his studies."
It was some moments before I renewed the convers&acn,
and I had scarcely done so before I was interrupted by
the entrance of Benjamin Jeremiah, with a message from
his aunt that dinner would be ready in a few minutes.
Another long whisper to Christopher succeeded. The ci-
denant fellow of Trinity looked down at his garments with
a perplexed air. I saw at once that he had received a hint
on the propriety of a change of raiment. To give him due
leisure for this, I asked the youth to show me a room in
which I might perform the usual ablutions previous to
dinner, and followed him up stairs to a comfortless sort
of dressing-room, without a fire-place, where I found a
yellow-ware jug and basin, and a towel, of so coarse a
huckaback, that I did not dare adventure its rough texture
next my complexion — my skin is not made for such rude
fellowship. While I was tenderly and daintily anointing
my hands with some hard water, of no Blandusian spring,
and that vile composition entitled Windsor soap, I heard
the difficult breathing of poor Clutterbuck on the stairs,
and soon after he entered the adjacent room. Two minutes
more, and his servant joined him, for I heard the rough
voice of the domestic say, " There is no more of the wine
with the black seal left, sir 1 "
" No more, good Dixon ? you mistake grievously. I
had two dozen not a week since."
TL — fi
62 pelham; or,
•* Don't know, I'm sure, sir I " answered Dixon, with a
careless and half-impertinent accent ; " but there are great
things, like alligators, in the cellar, which break all the
bottles I "
''Alligators in my cellar I " said the astonished Clutter-
buck.
" Yes, sir — at least a venomous sort of reptile like them,
which the people about here call e/tsf"
" What I " said Clutterbuck, innocently, and evidently
not seeing the irony of his own question ; " What I have
the efts broken two dozen bottles in a week ? Of an ex-
ceeding surety, it is strange that a little creature of the
lizard species should be so destructive — perchance they
have an antipathy to the vinous smell ; I will confer with
my learned friend. Dr. Dissectall, touching their strength
and habits. Bring up some of the port, then, good Dixon."
" Yes, sir. All the corn is out ; I had none for the gen-
tleman's horse."
" Why, Dixon, my memory fails me strangely, or I paid
the sum of four pounds odd shillings for corn on Friday
last."
" Yes, sir : but your cow and the chickens eat so much ;
and then blind Dobbin has four feeds a-day, and Farmer
Johnson always puts his horse in our stable, and Mrs.
Clutterbuck and the ladies fed the jackass the other day
in the hired donkey-chaise ; besides, the rats and mice are
always at it."
** It is a marvel unto me," answered Clutterbuck, "how
detrimental the vermin race are ; they seem to have noted
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. C3
my poor possessions as their especial prey ; remind me
that I write to Dr. Dissectall to-morrow, good Dixon."
" Yes, sir ; and now I think of it — " But here Mr. Dixon
yr%8 cut short in his items, by the entrance of a third per
bon, who proved to be Mrs. Clutterbuck.
" What, not dressed yet, Mr. Clutterbuck ! what a daw-
dler you are! — and do look — was ever a woman se
used ? You have wiped your razor upon my nightcap—
you dirty, slovenly "
" I crave you many pardons ; I own my error I " said
01utt«rbuck, in a nervous tone of interruption.
" Error, indeed 1 " cried Mrs. Clutterbuck, in a sharp,
overstretched, querulous falsetto, suited to the occasion :
** but this is always the case — I am sure my poor temper
is tried to the utmost — and Lord help thee, idiot I you
have thrust those spindle legs of yours into your coat-
sleeves instead of your breeches I "
" Of a truth, good wife, your eyes are more discerning
than mine ; and my legs, which are, as you say, somewhat
thin, have indued themselves in what appertaineth not unto
them ; but for all that, Dorthea, I am not deserving of the
epithet of idiot, with which you have been pleased to favor
me ; although my humble faculties are, indeed, of no em-
inent or surpassing order — "
" Pooh I pooh I Mr. Clutterbuck, I am sure, I don't know
what else you are, muddling your head all day with those
good-for-nothing books. And now do tell me, how you
could think of asking Mr. Felham to dinner; when you
knew we had nothing in the world but hashed mutton and
64 PEL HAM; OR,
an apple-pudding ? Is that the way, sir, you disgrace
ypur wifo, after her condescension in marrying you ? "
"Really," answered the patient Clutterbuck, "I was
forgetful of those matters ; but my friend cares as littlo
as myself about the grosser tastes of the table ; and the
feast of intellectual conyerse is all that he desires in his
brief sojourn beneath our roof."
" Feast of fiddlesticks, Mr. Clutterbuck I did ever man
talk such nonsense ? "
"Besides," rejoined the master of the house, unheeding
this interruption, " we have a luxury even of the palate,
than which there are none more delicate, and unto which
he, as well as myself, is, I know, somewhat unphilosophi-
cally given ; I speak of the oysters, sent here by our good
friend Dr. Swallow'em."
" What do you mean, Mr. Clutterbuck ? My poor mother
and I had those oysters last night for our supper. I am
sure she, and my sister, are almost starved ; but you are
always wanting to be pampered up above us all."
"Nay, nay," answered Clutterbuck, "you know you
accuse me wrongfully, Dorothea ; but now I think of it,
would it not be better to modulate the tone of our con-
versation, seeing that our guest (a circumstance which
until now quite escaped my recollection) was shown into
the next room, for the purpose of washing his hands, the
which, from their notable cleanliness, seemed to me wholly
unnecessary. I would not have him overhear you, Doro-
thea, lest his kind heart should imagine me less happy thaa
— than — it wishes me I"
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 65
** Good God, Mr. Clutterbuck ! " were the only words
I heard farther : and with tears in my eyes, and a suffoca-
ting feeling in my throat, for the matrimonial situation of
my unfortunate friend, I descended into the drawing-room.
The only one yet there was the pale nephew : he was
bending painfully over a book ; I took it from him ; it
was "Bentley upon Phalaris." I could scarcely refrain
from throwing it into the fire — " another victim I " thought
I. — Oh, the curse of an English education I
By and by, down came the mother and the sister, then
Clutterbuck, and lastly, bedizened out with gewgaws and
trumpery, — the wife. Boro and nurtured as I was in the
art of the volto sciolto, pensieri stretti* I had seldom
found a more arduous task of dissimulation than that which
I experienced now. However, the hope to benefit my
friend's situation assisted me : the best way, I thought, of
obtaining him more respect from his wife, will be by showing
her the respect he meets with from others : accordingly, I
sat down by her, and having first conciliated her attention
by some of that coin, termed compliments, in which there is
no counterfeit that does not ha^e the universal effect of
real, I spoke with the most profound veneration of tho
talents and learning of Clutterbuck ^— I dilated upon the
high reputation he enjoyed — upon the general esteem iu
which he was held — upon the kindness of his heart — the
sincerity of his modesty — the integrity of his honor — in
short, whatever I thought likely to affect her ; most of all,
T Insisted upon the high panegyrics bestowed upon him
•• — »...
* The open countenance and closed thoughts.
6*
66 pelham; or,
by Loi*d ibis, and tbe Earl tbat, and wound ap, with
adding tbat I was certain he would die a bishop. My
eloquence had its effect ; all dinner-time, Mrs. Clutterbuck
treated her husband with even striking consideration : my
words seemed to have gifted her with a new light, and to
have wrought a thorough transformation in her view of
her lord and master's character. Who knows not the truth,
that we have dim and short-sighted eyes to estimate the
nature of our own kin, and that we borrow the spectacles
which alone enable us to discern their merits or their
failings from the opinion of strangers I It may be readily
supposed that the dinner did not pass without its share of
the ludicrous — that the waiter and the dishes, the family
and the host, would have afforded ample materials no less
for the student of nature in Hogarth, than of caricature
in Bunbury ; but I was too seriously occupied in pursuing
my object, and marking its success, to have time even for
a smile. Ah I if ever you would allure your son to diplo-
macy, show him how subservient he may make it to be-
nevolence.
When the women had retired, we drew our chairs near
to each other, and, laying down my watch on the table,
as I looked out upon the declining day, I said, " Let us
make the best of our time ; I can only linger here ono
half-hour longer."
" And how, my friend," said Clutterbuck, " shall we
learn the method of making the best use of time ? there,
whether it be in the larger segments, or the petty subdi*
visions of our life, rests the great enigmia of our beings
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN C*)
Who is there that has ever exclaimed — (pardon my
pedantry, I am for once driven into Greek) — Eureka I
to this most difficult of the sciences ? "
" Come," said I, "it is not for you, the favored scholar
— the honored academician — whose hours are never idly
employed, to ask this question 1 "
* Your friendship makes too flattering the acumen of
your judgment," answered the modest Clutterbuck. " It
has indeed been my lot to cultivate the fields of truth,
as transmitted unto our hands by the wise men of old ;
and I have much to be thankful for, that I have, in the
employ, been neither curtailed in my leisure, nor abashed
in my independence — the two great goods of a calm
and meditative mind: yet are there moments in which I
am led to doubt of the wisdom of my pursuits ; and when,
with a feverish and shaking hand, I put aside the books
which have detained me from my rest till the morning
hour, and repair unto -a couch often baffled of slumber by
the pains and discomforts of this worn and feeble frame,
I almost wish I could purchase the rude health of the
peasant by the exchange of an idle and imperfect learning
for the ignorance, content with the narrow world it pos-
sesses, because unconscious of the limitless creation beyond.
Yet, my dear and esteemed friend, there is a dignified and
tranquillizing philosophy in the writings of the ancients
which ought to teach me a better condition of mind ; and
when I have risen from the lofty, albeit, somewhat melan«
choly strain, which swells through the essays of the graceful
and tender Cicero, I hate indeed felt a momentary satis-
68 pelham; or,
faction at my studies, and an elation eren at the petty
success with which I have cherished them. But these are
brief and fleeting moments, and deserve chastisement for
their pride. There is one thing, my Pelham, which has
grieved me bitterly of late, and that is, that in the earnest
attention which it is the — perhaps fastidious — custom
of our University, to pay to the minutiae of classic lore,
I do now oftentimes lose the spirit and beauty of the
general bearing ; nay, I derive a far greater pleasure from
the ingenious amendment of a perverted text, than from
all the turn and thought of the sense itself: while I am
straightening a crooked nail in the wine-cask, I suffer the
wine to evaporate ; but to this I am somewhat reconciled,
when I reflect that it was also the misfortune of the great
Porson, and the elaborate Parr, men with whom I blush
to find myself included in the same sentence."
" My friend," said I, " I wish neither to wound your
modesty, nor to impugn your pursuits ; but think you not
it would be better, both for men and for yourself, if, while
you are yet in the vigor of your age and reason, you
occupy your ingenuity and application in some more useful
and lofty work, than that which you suffered me to glance
at in your library ; and, moreover, as the great object of
him who would perfect his mind, is first to strengthen the
faculties of his body, would it not be prudent in you to
lessen for a time your devotion to books ; to exercise
yourself in the fresh air — to relax the bow, by loosing
the string ; to mix more with the living, and impart to
men in conversation, as well as in writing, whatever the
ADVENTURES OT A GENTLEMAN. 61)
mcessant labor of many years may have hoarded ? Come,
if not to town, at least to its vicinity ; the profits of your
living, if even tolerably managed, will enable you to do so
without inconvenience. Leave your books to their shelves,
and your flock to their curate, and — yon shake your
Lead — do I displease you f "
** No, no, my kind and generous adviser ; — but as the
twig was set, the tree must grow. I have not been without
that ambition which, however vain and sinful, is the first
passion to enter the wayward and tossing vessel of our
soul, and the last to leave its stranded and shattered
wreck ; but mine found and attained its object at an age
when in others it is, as yet, a vague and unsettled feeling ;
and it feeds now rather upon the recollections of what has
been, than ventures forward on a s^a of untried and
strange expectation. As for my studies I how can you, who
have, and in no moderate draught, drunk of the old stream
of Castaly, — how can you ask me now to change them?
Are not the ancients my food, my aliment, my solace in
sorrow — my sympathizers, my very benefactors, in joy?
Take them away from me, and you take away the very
winds which purify and give motion to the obleure and
silent current of my life. Besides, my Pelham, it cannot
have escaped your observation, that there is little in my
present state which promises a long increase of days : the
few that remain to me must glide away like their prede-
cessors ; and whatever be the infirmities of my body, and
the little harassments which, I am led to suspect, do
occasionally molest the most fortunate, who link them-
70 pelham; or,
selves unto the unstable and fluctuating part of creation,
which we term women, more especially in an hymeneal
capacity — whatever these may be, I have my refuge and
my comforter in the golden-souled and dreaming Plato,
and the sententious wisdom of the less imaginative Seneca.
Nor, when I am reminded of my approaching dissolution
by the symptoms which do mostly at the midnight hour
press themselves upon me, is there a small and inglorious
pleasure in the hope that I may meet, hereafter, in those
Islands of the Blest which they dimly dreamt of, but
which are opened unto my vision, without a cloud, or mist,
or shadow of uncertainty and doubt, with those bright
spirits which we do now converse with so imperfeistly ; that
I may catch from the very lips of Homer, the unclouded
gorgeousness of fiction, and from the accents of Archime-
des, the unadulterated calculations of truth ! "
Clutterbuck ceased ; and' the glow of his enthusiasm
diffused itself over his sunken eye and consumptive cheek.
The boy, who had sat apart, and silent, during our dis-
course, laid his head upon the table, and sobbed audibly ;
and I rose, deeply affected, to offer to one for whom they
were, indeed, unavailing, the wishes and blessing of an
eager, but not hardened disciple pf the world. We parted :
on this earth we can never meet again. The light haa
wasted itself away beneath the bushel It will be six
weeks to-morrow since the meek and noble-minded aca*
demician breathed his last t
ADVENTURES Of A GENTLEMAN. 71
CHAPTER LXIV.
'Tis but a single murder. — Lillo's Fatal Curionty
It was in a melancholy and thoughtfal mood that I rode
away from the parsonage. Numerous and hearty were
the maledictions I bestowed upon a system of education
which, while it was so ineflFective with the many, was so
pernicious to the few. Miserable delusion (thought I),
that encourages the ruin of health and the perversion of
intellect, by studies that are as unprofitable to the world
as they are destructive to the possessor — that incapacitate
him for public, and unfit him for private, life ; — and that,
while they expose him to the ridicule of strangers, render
him the victim of his wife, and the prey of his domestic 1
Busied in such reflections, I rode quickly on, till I found
myself, once more, on the heath. I looked anxiously
round for the conspicuous equipage of Lady Chester, but
in vain: the ground was thin — nearly all the higher
orders had retired : the common people, grouped together,
and clamoring noisily, were withdrawing : and the shrill
voices of the itinerant hawkers of cards and bills had, at
length, subsided into silence. I rode over the ground, in
the hope of finding some solitary straggler of our party.
Alas I there was not one ; and with much reluctance at,
and distaste to, my lonely retreat, I turned in a homeward
direction from the course.
2«
7S pelham; or,
The evening had already set in, but there was a moou
in the cold grey sky, that I conld almost have thanked, in
a sonnet, for a light which I felt was never more welcomely
dispensed, when I thought of the cross-roads and dreary
country I had to pass before I reached the longed-for
haven of Chester Park. After I had left the direct road,
the wind, which had before been piercingly keen, fell,
and I perceived a dark cloud behind, which began slowly
to overtake my steps. I care little, in general, for the
discomfort of a shower ; yet, as when we are in one mis-
fortune we always exaggerate the consequence of a new
one, I looked upon my dark pursuer with a very impatient
and petulant frown, and set my horse on a trot, much more
suitable to my inclination than his own. Indeed, he seemed
fully alive to the comless state of the parson's stable, and
evinced his sense of the circumstance by a very languid
mode of progression, and a constant attempt, whenever his
pace abated, and I suffered the rein to slumber upon his
neck, to crop the rank grass that sprang up on either side
of our road. I had proceeded about three miles on my
way, when I heard the clatter of hoofs behind me. My
even pace soon suffered me to be overtaken ; and, as the
stranger checked his horse, when he was nearly by my
side, I turned towards him, and beheld Sir John Tyrrell.
" Well," said he, " this is really fortunate ; for I began
to fear I should have my ride, this cold evening, entirely
to myself."
'' I imagined that you had long reached Chester Pur\
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. *lh
by this time," said I. " Did not you leave the course witK
our party ? "
•*No," answered Tyrrell; "I had business, at New-
market, with a rascally fellow of the name of Dawson.
He lost to me rather a considerable wager, and asked me
to come to town with him after the race, in order to pay
me. As he said he lived on the direct road to Chestei
Park, and would direct, and even accompany me through
all the difficult part of the ride, I the less regretted not
joining Chester and his party ; and you know, Pelham,
that when pleasure pulls one way, and money another, it
is all over with the first. Well, — to return to my rascal
— would you believe, that when we got to Newmarket,
he left me at the inn, in order, he said, to fetch the money ;
and after having kept me in a cold room, with a smoky
chimney, for more than an hour, without making his ap-
pearance, I sallied out into the town, and found Mr.
Dawson quietly seated in a hell with that scoundrel Thorn-
ton, whom I did not conceive, till then, he was acquainted
with. It seems that he was to win, at hazard, sufficient to
pay his wager 1 You may fancy my anger, and the conse-
quent increase to it, when he rose from the table, ap-
proached me, expressed his sorrow, d — d his ill luck, and
informed me that he could not pay for three months. Yon
know that I dould not ride home with such a fellow — he
might have robbed me by the way — so I returned to my
inn — dined — ordered my horse — set off — inquired my
way of every passenger I passed, and after innumerable
misdirections — here I am 1 " *
IL— t
74 pelham; ob,
" I cannot sympathize with you," said I, " since I am
benefited by your misfortunes. But do you think* it very
necessary to trot so fast ? I fear my horse can scarcely
keep up with yours."
Tyrrell cast an impatient glance at my panting steed«
" It is cursed unlucky you should be so badly mounted,
and we shall have a pelting shower presently."
In complaisance to Tyrrell, I endeavored to accelerate
my steed. The roads were rough and stony ; and I had
scarcely got the tired animal into a sharp trot, before —
whether or no by some wrench among the deep ruts and
flitity causeway — he fell suddenly lame. The impetuosity
of Tyrrell broke out in oaths, and we both dismounted to
examine the cause of my horse's hurt, in the hope that it
might only be the intrusion of some pebble between the
shoe and the hoof. While we were yet investigating the
cause of our misfortune, two men on horseback overtook
us. Tyrrell looked up. "By Heaven," said he, in a low
tone, " it's that dog Dawson, and his worthy coadjutor,
Tom Thornton."
*^ What's the matter, gentlemen ? " cried the bluff voice
of the latter. " Can I be of -any assistance ? " and without
waiting our reply, he dismounted, and came up to us. He
had no sooner felt the horse's leg, than he assured us it was
a most severe strain, and that the utmost I could effect
would be to walk the brute gently home.
As- Tyrrell broke out into impatient violence at this
speech, the sharper looked up at him with an expression
of countenance I by no means liked, but in a very civil and
ADVENTURES OV A GENTLEMAN. 75
even respectful tone, said, *' If you wish. Sir John, to reacb
Chester Park sooner than Mr. Pelham can possibly doi
suppose you ride on with us ; I will put you in the direct
road before I quit you." (Good-breeding, thought I, to
- propose leaving me to find my own way through this laby-
rinth of ruts and stones 1) However, Tyrrell; who was in
a vile humor, refused the offer, in no very courteous man-
ner ; and added, that he should continue with me as long
as he could, and did not doubt that when he left me he
should be able to find his own way. Thornton pressed
the invitation still closer, and even offered, soUo voce, to
send Dawson on before, should the baronet object to his
company.
"Pray, sir," said Tyrrell, "leave me alone, and busy
yourself about your own affairs." After so tart a reply,
Thornton thought it useless to say more ; he remounted,
and with a silent and swaggering nod of familiarity, soon
rode away with his companion.
"I am sorry," said I, as we were slowly proceeding,
**that you rejected Thornton's offer."
" Why, to say truth," answered Tyrrell, " I have so very
bad an opinion of him, that I was almost afraid to trust
myself in his company on so dreary a road. I have nearly
(and he knows it), to the amount of two thousand pounds
about me ; for I was very fortunate in my betting-book
to-day."
"I know nothing about racing regulations," said T;
" but I thought one never paid sums of that amount upon
the ground ? "
}
^
T^ pelham; OB,
"Ah ! ' answered Tyrrell, " but I won this sum, which
is eighteen hundred pounds, of a country squire from Nor-
folk, who sai(l he did not know when ho should see me
again, and insisted on paying me on the spot : 'faith I was
not nice in the matter. Thornton was standing by at tho
time, and I did not half like the turn of his eye when he
saw me put it up. Do you know, too," continued Tyrrell,
after a pause, " that I had a d — d fellow dodging me all
day, and yesterday too ; wherever I go, I am sure to see
him. He seems constantly, though distantly, to follow
me ; and what is worse, he wraps himself up so well, and
keeps at so cautious a distance, that I can never catch a
glimpse of his face."
I know not why, but at that moment the recollection
of the muffled figure I had seen upon the course, flashed
upon me.
'' Does he wear a long horseman's cloak ? " said I.
" He does," answered Tyrrell, in surprise ; " have yoa
observed him ? "
" I saw such a person on the race-ground," replied I ;
" but only for an instant 1 "
Farther conversation was suspended by a few heavy
drops which fell upon us ; the cloud had passed over ttie
moon, and was hastening rapidly and loweringly over on?
heads. Tyrrell was neither of an age, a frame, nor a tem*
per, to be so -indifferent to a hearty wetting as myself.
" Come, come," he cried, " you rmist put on that beast
of your's — I can't get wet, for all the horses in the world."
I was not much pleased with the dictatorial tone of this
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 77
remark. ''It is impossible," said I, "especially as the
horse is not my own, and seems considerably lamer than at
first; but let me not detain yon."
" Well 1 " cried Tyrrell, in a raised and angry voice,
which pleased me still less than his former remark ; '' bat
how am I to find my way, if I leave you ? "
** Keep straight on," said I, "for a mile farther, then a
sign-post will direct you to the left ; after a short time, yon
will have a steep hill to descend, at the bottom x)f which
is a large pool, and a singularly shaped tree ; then again,
keep straight on, till you pass a house belonging to Mr.
Dawson "
" Hang it, Pelham, make haste 1 " exclaimed Tyrrell,
impatiently, as the rain began now to descend fast and
heavy.
" When you have passed that house," I resumed coolly,
rather enjoying his petulance, '' you must bear to the right
for six miles, and you will be at Chester Park in less than
an hour."
Tyrrell made no reply, but put spurs to his horse. The
pattering rain and the angry heavens soon drowned the
last echoes of the receding hoof-clang.
' For myself, I looked in vain for a tree ; not even a shrub
was to be found ; the fields lay bare on either side, with
no other partition but a dead hedge, and a deep dyke.
" Melius fit pateniid,^^ &c., thought I, as Horace said, and
Vincent would say ; and in order to divert my thoughts
from my situation, I turned them towards my diplomatic
success with Lord Chester. Presently, for I think scarcely
7*
•'S PELHAM; OR,
fire minntes had elapsed since Tyrrell's departure, a horse-
mail passed me at a sharp pace ; the moon was hid by the
dense cload ; and the night, though not wholly dark, was
dim and obscured, so that I could only catch the outline
of the flitting figure. A thrill of fear crept over me, when
I saw that it was enveloped in a horseman's cloak. I soon
rallied : — " There are more cloaks in the world than one,"
said I to myself; "besides, even if it be Tyrrell's dodger,
as he calls him, the baronet is better mounted than any
highwayman since the days of Du Val ; and is, moreover,
strong enough and cunning enough to take admirable care
of himself." With this reflection I dismissed the occur-
rence from my thoughts, and once more returned to self-
congratulations upon my own incomparable genius. " I
shall now," I thought, '* have well earned my seat in Par-
liament : Dawton will indisputably be, if not the prime,
the principal minister in rank and influence. He cannot
fail to promote me for his own sake, as well as mine ; and
when I have once fairly got my legs in St. Stephen's, I
shall soon have my hands in office : ' power,' says some one,
' is a snake that when it once finds a hole into which it
can introduce its head, soon manages to wriggle in the
rest of its body.'"
With such meditations I endeavored to beguile the time,
and cheat myself into forgetfulness of the lameness of my
horse, and the dripping wetness of his rider. At last the
storm began sullenly to subside : one impetuous torrent,
ten-fold more violent than those that had preceded it, was
followed by a momentary stillness, which was again broken
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 7^
by a short relapse of a less formidable severity, and, the
moment it ceased, the beaatiful moon broke out, the cloud
rolled heavily away, and the sky shone forth, as fair and
smiling as Lady at a ball, after she has been beating
her husband at home.
But at that instant, or perhaps a second before the storm
ceased, I thought I heard the sound of a human cry. I
paused, and my heart stood still — I could have heard a
gnat hum : the sound was not repeated ; my ear caught
nothing but the plashing of the rain-drops from the dead
hedges, and the murmur of the swollen dykes, as the waters
pent within them rolled hurriedly on. By and by, an owl
eame suddenly from behind me, and screamed as it flapped
across my path ; that, too, went rapidly away : and with
a smile, at what I deemed my own fancy, I renewed ray
journey. I soon came to the precipitous descent I have
before mentioned ; I dismounted, for safety, from my
drooping and jaded horse, and led him down the hilL At
a distance beyond I saw something dark moving on the
grass which bordered the road ; as I advanced, it started
forth from the shadow, and fled rapidly before me, in the
moonshine — it was a riderless horse. A chilling fore-
boding seized me : I looked round for some weapon, such
sa the hedge might afford ; and finding a strong stick of
tolerable weight and thickness, I proceeded more can-
tiously, but more fearlessly than before. As I wound down
the hill, the moonlight fell full upon the remarkable and
^onely tree I had observed in the morning. Bare, wan,
und giant-like, as it rose amidst the surrounding waste, it
80 PELHAM; OR,
borrowed eren a more startling and ghostly appearance
from the cold and lifeless moonbeams which fell around
and upon it like a shroud. The retreating steed I had
driven before me, paused by this tree. I hastened my
steps, as if by an involuntary impulse, as well as the en-
feebled animal I was leading would allow me, and disco-
vered a horseman galloping across the waste at full speed.
The ground over which he passed was steeped in the
moonshine, and I saw the long and disguising cloak, in
which he was enveloped, as clearly as by the light of day.
I paused : and as I was following him with my looks, my
eye fell upon some obscure object by the left side of the
pool. I threw my horse's rein over the hedge, and firmly
grasping my stick, hastened to the spot. As I approached
the object, I perceived that it was a human figure ; it was
lying still and motionless : the limbs were half immersed
in the water — the face was turned upwards — the side
and throat were wet with a deep red stain — it was of
blood: the thin, dark hairs of the head were clotted
together over a frightful and disfiguring contusion. 1
bent over the face in a shuddering and freezing aileL'ie.
It was the countenance of Sir John Tyrrell I
ADVXNIUBBS 01" A aENTLEMAN. 81
CHAPTER LXT.
Marry, he was dead —
And the right vaTiant Banquo walked too late:
Whom yoa may say, if it please you, Fleance killed,
For Fleance fled! — Macbeth.
It is a fearful thing, even to the hardiest nerves, to find
i/urselves suddenly alone with the dead. How much more
BO, if we have, but a breathing interval before, moved and
conversed with the warm and living likeness of the mo-
tionless clay before us !
And this was the man from whom I had parted in
coldness — almost in anger — at a word — a breath I I
took up the heavy hand — it fell from my grasp ; and as
it did so, I thought a change passed over the livid coun-
tenance. I was deceived ; it was but a light cloud flitting
over the moon; — it rolled away, and the placid and
guiltless light shone over that scene of dread and blood,
making more wild and chilling the eternal contrast of earth
and heaven — man and his Maker — passion and immn*
tability — death and eternal life.
But that was not a moment for reflection — a thousand
thoughts hurried upon me, and departed as swift and
confusedly as they came. My mind seemed a jarring and
benighted chaos of the faculties which were its elements ;
and I had stood several minutes over the corpse before,
by a vigorous effort, I shook off the stupor that possessed
82 pelham; OB.
me. and began to think of the coarse that it now behoved
me to pursue.
The house I had noted in the morning was, I knew,
within a few minutes' walk of the spot ; but it belonged
to Dawson, upon whom the first weight of my suspicions
rested. I called to mind the disreputable character of
that man, and the still more daring and hardened one of
his companion Thornton. I remembered the reluctance
of the deceased to accompany them, and the well-grounded
reason he assigned ; and, my suspicions amounting to
certainty, I resolved rather to proceed to Chester Park,
and there give the alarm, than to run the unnecessary risk
of interrupting the murderers in the very lair of their
retreat. .And yet, thought I, as. I turned slowly away,
how if they were the villains, is the appearance and flight
of the disguised horseman to be accounted for ?
Then flashed upon my recollection all that Tyrrell had
said of the dogged pursuit of that mysterious person, and
the circumstance of his having passed me upon the road
so immediately after Tyrrell had quitted me. These re-
flections (associated with a name that I did not dare
breathe even to myself, although I could not suppress a
suspicion which accounted at once for the pursuit, and
even for the deed,) made me waver in, and almost renounce,
my former condemnation of Thornton and his friend : and
by the time I reached the white gate and dwarfish avenue
which led to Dawson's house, I resolved, at all events, to
halt at the solitary mansion, and mark the effect my in-
formation would cause.
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 83
A momentary fear for my owd safety came across me,
hut was as instantly dismissed : *— for even supposing the
friends were guilty, still it would be no object to them to
extend their remorseless villany to me ; and I knew that I
nould sufficiently command my own thoughts to prevent
any suspicion I might form, from mounting to my counte-
nance, or discovering itself in my manner.
There was a light in the upper story ; it burned still
and motionless. How holy seemed the tranquillity of life,
contrasted with the forced and fearful silence of the death
scene I had just witnessed I I rang twice at the door-^
no one came to answer my summons, but the light in the
upper window moved hurriedly to and frp.
** They are coming," said I to myself. No such thing
— the casement above was opened — I looked up, and
discovered, to my infinite comfort and delight, a blunder-
buss protruded eight inches out of the window in a direct
line with my head ; I receded close to the wall with no
common precipitation.
"Get away, you rascal," said a gruflf, but trembling
voice, "or I'll blow your brains out."
" My good sir," I replied, still keeping my situation,
" I come on urgent business, either to Mr. Thornton or
Mr. Dawson ; and. you had better, therefore, if the delay
is not very inconvenient, defer the honor you offer me, till
I have delivered my message."
" Master and 'Squire Thornton arc not retumed from
Newmarket, and we cannot let any one in till they come
home," replied the voice, in a tone somewhat mollified by
1
84 pelham; ob,
my rational remoDstrance ; and while I was deliberatiiig
what rejoinder to make, a rough, red head, like Liston'a
in a farce, poked itself caationsly oat under cover of the
blunderbuss, and seemed to reconnoitre my horse and
myself. Presently another head, but attired in the more
civilized gear of a cap and flowers, peeped over the first
person's left shoulder; the view appeared to reassure
them both.
" Sir," said the female, " my husband and Mr. Thorn-
ton are not returned ; and we have been so much alarmed
of late, by an attack on the house, that I cannot admifc
any one till their return."
" Madam," I replied, reverently doffing my hat, " I do
not like to alarm you by mentioning the information I
should have given to Mr. Dawson ; only oblige me by
telling them, on their return, to look beside th^ pool on
the Common ; they will then do av best pleases them."
Upon this speech, which certainly was of no agreeable
tendency, the blunderbuss palpitated so violently, that I
thought it highly imprudent to tarry any longer in so
perilous a vicinity ; accordingly, I made the best of my
way out of the avenue, and once more resumed my road
to Chester Park.
I arrived there at length ; the gentlemen were still in
the dining-room, I sent out for Lord Chester, and com
municated the scene I had witnessed, and the cause of
my delay.
" What I Brown Bob lamed ? " said he, " and Tyrrell —
poor — poor fellow, how shocking I We must send in
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. % 85
stantlj. Here, John I Tom I Wilson I " and his lordship
shouted and rang the bell in an indescribable agitation.
The under butler appeared, and Lord Chester began
— " My head gf oom — Sir John Tyrrell is murdered —
violent sprain in off leg — send lights with Mr. Pelham
— poor gentleman — an express instantly to Dr. Physicon
— - Mr. Pelham will tell you all — Brown Bob — his throat
cat from ear to ear — what shall be done J " and with this
coherent and explanatory harangue, the marquise sank
down in his chair in a sort of hysteric.
The under butler looked at him in suspicious bewilder-
ment. " Come," said I, " I will explain what his lord-
ship means ; " and, taking the man out of the room, I
gave him, in brief, the necessary particulars. I ordered a
fresh horse for myself, and four horsemen to accompany
me. While these were preparing, the news was rapidly
spreading, and I was soon surrounded by the whole house.
Many of the gentlemen wished to accompany me ; and
Lord Chester, who had at last recovered from his stupor,
insisted upon heading the search. We set off, to the
number of fourteen, and soon arrived at Dawson's house :
the light in the upper room was still burning. We rang,
and after a brief pause, Thornton himself opened the door
to us. He looked pale and agitated.
** How shocking I " he said directly — " we are only just
returned from the spot."
"Accompany us, Mr. Thornton,'' said I, sternly, and
fixing my eye upon him.
** Certainly," was his immediate answer, without test!*
TL— 8
86 . pelham; ob,
fying auj confusion — **I will fetch my hat." He went
into the house for a moment
*' Do you suspect these people ?" whispered Lord Chester
"Not suspect," said I, "but doiLbU^'
We proceeded down the avenue : " Where is Mr. Daw-
son ? " said I to Thornton.
" Oh, within I " answered Thornton. " Shall I fetch
him ? "
" Do," was my brief reply.
Thornton was absent some minutes ; when he reap-
peared, Dawson was following him. " Poor fellow," said
he to me in a low tone — '* he was so shocked by the sight,
that he is still all in a panic ; besides, as you will see, he
is half drunk still."
I made no answer, but looked narrowly at Dawson ; he
was evidently, as Thornton said, greatly intoxicated ; his
eyes swam, and his feet staggered as he approached us ;
yet, through all the natural effects ^ drunkenness, he
seemed nervous and frightened. This, however, might be
the natural (and consequently innocent) effect of the mere
sight of an object so full of horror ; and, accordingly, I
laid little stress upon it.
We reached the fatal spot: the body. seemed perfecitly
nnmoved. " Why," said I, apart to Thornton, while all
the rest were crowding fearfully round the corpse — " why
did you not take the body within ? "
" I was going to return here with our servant for that
purpose," answered the gambler; "for poor Dawson waa
both too drunk and too nervous to give me any assistance ^
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 81
"And how came it," I rejoined, eyeing him searchingly,
•'that yoa and your friend had not returned home when I
called there, although yon had both long since passed me
on the road, and I had never overtaken yoa?"
Thornton, without any hesitation, replied — " Because^
diring the violence of the shower, we cut across the fields
to an old shed, which we recollected, and we remained
there tillthe rain had ceased."
" They are probably innocent," thought I — and I turned
to look once more at the body, which our companion^ had
now raised. There was upon the head a strong contusion,
as if inflicted by some blunt and heavy instrument. The
fingers of the right hand were deeply gashed, and one of
them almost dissevered : the unfortunate man had, in all
probability, grasped the sharp weapon from which his other
wounds proceeded ; these were one wide cut along the
throat, and another in the side ; either of them would have
occasioned his death.
In loosening the clothes, another wound was discovered,
but apparently of a less fatal nature ; and in lifting the body,
«
the broken blade of a long sharp instrument, like a case-
knife, was discovered.. It was the opinion of the surgeon,
who afterwards examined the body, that the blade had
been broken by coming in contact with one of the rib-bones ;
and it was by this that he accounted for the slightness of
the last- mentioned wound. I looked carefully among the
fern and long grass, to see if I could discover any other
token of the murderer : Thornton assisted me. At the
2d
88 . pelham; or,
distance of some feet from the body, I thoaght I perceived
something glitter. I hastened to the place, and picked np
a miniature. I was just going to cry out, when Thornton
whispered — " Hush I I know the picture ; it is as I sus-
pected I "
An icy thrill ran through my very heart. With a des-
perate but trembling hand, I cleansed from the picture
the blood, in which, notwithstanding its distance from the
corpse, the greater part of it was bathed. I looked upon
the Features ; they were those of a young and singularly
beautiful female. I recognized them not : I turned to the
other side of the miniature ; upon it were braided two locks
of hair — one was the long, d^rk ringlet of a woman, the
other was of a light auburn. Beneath were four letters.
I looked eagerly at them. " My eyes are dim," said I,
in a low tone to Thornton, "I cannot trace the initials."
" But / can," replied he, in the same whispered key, but
with a savage exultation, which made my heart stand still :
"they are G. D., R. G. ; they are the initials of Gertrude
Douglas and Reginald Olanville.^^
I looked up at the speaker — our eyes met — I grasped
his hand vehemently. He understood me. " Put it up,"
said he ; ''we will keep the secret." All this, so long in
the recital, passed in the rapidity of a moment.
'* Have you found anything there, Pelham ? " shouted
one of our companions.
" No," cried I, thrusting the miniature in my bosom,
and turning unconcernedly away.
We carried the corpse to Dawson's house. The poor
ADVENTURES OP A GENTLEMAN. 8S>
wife was in fits. We heard her scream as we laid the body
upon a table in the parlor.
"What more can be done?" said Lord Chester.
" Nothing," was the general answer. No excitement
makes people insensible to the chance of catching cold 1
"Let us go home, then, and send to the nearest magis-
irate," exclaimed onr host : and this proposal required no
repetition.
On our way, Chester said to me, " That fellow Dawson
looked devilish uneasy — don't you still suspect him and .
his friend ? "
" I do notP^ answered I, emphatically.
CHAPTER LXVI.
And now I'm in the world alone,
»***♦*
Bat whj for others should I groan,
When none will sigh for me? — Btbon.
The whole country was in confusion at the news of the
murder. All the myrmidons of justice were employed in
the most active research for the murderers. Some few
persons wore taken up on suspicion, but were as instantly
discharged. Thornton and Dawson underwent a long
and rigorous examination ; but no single tittle of evidence
against them appeared : they were consequently dismissed.
8*
90 pelham; or,
The only suspicions circumstance against them, was theif
delay on the road : but the cause given, the^ same as
Thornton had at first assigned to me, was probable and
natural. The shed was indicated,. and, as if to confirm
Thornton's account, a glove belonging to that person was
found there. To crown all, my own evidence, in which I
was constrained to mention the circumstance of the muffled
horseman having passed me on the road, and being found
by me on the spot itself, threw the whole weight of suspi-
cion upon that man, whoever he might be.
All attempts, however, to discover him were in vain.
It was ascertained that a man, muffled in a cloak, was seen
at Newmarket, but not remarkably observed ; it was also
discovered, that a person so habited had put up a grey
horse to bait in one of the inns at Newmarket ; but in the
throng of strangers neither the horse nor its owner had
drawn down any particular remark.
On further inquiry, testimony differed ; four or five
men, in cloaks, had left their horses at the stables ; one
ostler changed the color of the steed to brown, a second
to black, a third deposed that the gentleman was remark-
ably tall, and the waiter swore solemnly he had given a
glass of brandy and water to an t^n^e^looking gentleman,
in a cloak, who was remarkably short. In fine, no mate-
rial point could be proved, and though the officers were
still employed in active search, they could trace nothing
that promised a speedy discovery.
As for myself, as soon as I decently could, I left Chester
Park, with a most satisfactory despatch in my pocket,
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 91
from its possessor to Lord Dawton, and found myself once
more on the road to London.
Alas I how different were my thoughts, how changed
the temper of my mind, since I had last travelled that
road I Then I was full of hope, energy, ambition — of
interest for Reginald Glanville — of adoration for his
Bister; and now, I leaned back listless and dispirited,
without a single feeling to gladden the restless and feverish
despair which, ever since thcU night, had possessed me I
What was ambition henceforth to me ? The most selfish
amongst us must have some human being to whom to refer
— with whom to connect, to associate, to treasure, the
triumphs and gratifications of self. Where now for my
heart was such a being ? My earliest friend, for whom
my esteem was the greater for his sorrows, my interest the
keener for his mystery, Reginald Glanville, was a mur-
derer I a dastardly, a barbarous felon, whom the chance
of an instant might convict I — and she — she, the only
woman in the world I had ever really loved — who had
ever pierced the thousand folds of my ambitions and
scheming heart — she was the sister of the assassin !
Then came over my mind the savage and exulting eye
of Thornton, when it read the damning record of Glan-
ville's guilt ; and in spite of my horror at the crime of my
former friend, I trembled for his safety ; nor was I satisfied
with myself at my prevarication as a witness. It is true
that I had told the truth, but I had not told all the truth ;
and my heart swelled proudly and bitterly against the
miniature which I still concealed in my bosom.
92 pelham; o»,
To save a criminal, in whose safety I was selfishly con*
ceroed, I felt that I had tampered with my honor, paltered
with the truth, and broken what justice, not over-harshly,
deemed a peremptory and inviolable duty.
It was with a heightened pulse, and a burning cheek,
that I entered London ; before midnight I was in a high
fever ; they sent for the vultures of physic — I was bled
copiously — I was kept quiet in bed for six days ; at the
end of that time, my constitution and youth restored me.
I took up one of the newspapers listlessly ; Qlanville's
name struck me ; I read the paragraph which contained it
— it was a high-flown and fustian panegyric on his genius
and promise. I turned to another column : it contained
a long speech he had the night before made in the House
of Commons.
" Can such things be ? " thought I ; yea, and thereby
hangs a secret and an anomaly in the human heart. A
man may commit the greatest of crimes, and (if no other
succeed to it) it changes not the current of his being ; to
all the world — to all intents — for all objects, he may be
the same. He may equally serve his country — equally
benefit his friends — be generous — brave — benevolent,
all that he was before. One crime, however heinous,
does not necessarily cause a revolution in the system -^
it is only \he perpetual course of sins, vices, follies, however
Insignificant they may seem, which alters the nature and
hardens the heart.
My mother was out of town when I returned there.
They had written to her during my illness, and while I
•■ «
ADVENTXTRES OF A QENTLEMAN. 93
was yet musing over the day's journal, a letter from ber
was put into my hand. I transcribe it.
"My DEAREST Henry,
" How dreadfully uneasy I am about you 1 write to me
directly. I would come to town myself, but am staying
with dear Lady Dawton, who will not hear of my going ;
and I cannot offend her for your sake. By-the-bye, why
have you not called upon Lord Dawton ? but, I forgot,
you have been ilL My dear, dear child, I am wretched
about you, and how pale your illness will make you look I
ju^t, too, as the best part of the season is coming on.
How unlucky I Pray, don't wear a black cravat when
you next call on Lady Koseville ; but choose a very fine
baptiste one — it will make you look rather delicate than
ill. What physician do you have ? I hope, in God, that
it is Sir Henry Halford. I shall be too miserable if it is
not. I am sure no one can conceive the anguish I suffer.
Your father, too, poor man, has been laid up with the
gout for the last three days. Keep up your spirits, my
dearest child, and get some light books to entertain you :
but, pray, as soon as you are well, do go to Lord Daw-
ton's — he is dying to see you ; but be sure not to catch
told. How did you like Lady Chester ? Pray take the
greatest care of yourself, and write soon to
"Your wretched, and most
"Affectionate mother,
"P.P.''
" P. S. How dreadfully shocking about that poor Sir
John Tyrrell 1"
94 PELHAM;OB,
I tossed the letter from me. Hearen pardon me if thf
misaDthropy of my mood made me less grateful for the
maternal solicitade than I should otherwise have been.
I took up one of the numerous books with which my
table was covered ; it was a worldly work of one of the
Frenf.h reasoners ; it gave a new turn to my thoughts —
my mind reverted to its former projects of ambition. Who
does not know what active citizens private misfortune
makes us ? The public is like the pools of Bethesda — we
all hasten there, to plunge in and rid ourselves of our
afflictions.
I drew my portfolio to me, and wrote to Lord Dawton.
Three hours after I had sent the note, he called upon me
I gave him Lord Chester's letter, but he had already re
ceived from that nobleman a notification of my success.
He was profuse in his compliments and thanks.
"And, do you know," added the statesman, " that you
have quite made a conquest of Lord Guloseton ? He
speaks of you publicly in the highest terms : I wish we
could get him and his votes. We miisi be strengthened,
my dear Pelham ; everything depends on the crisis."
"Are you certain of the cabinet ? " I asked.
" Yes ; it is not yet publicly announced, but it is fully
known amongst us, who comes in, and who stays out. I
am to have the place of ."
" I congratulate your lordship from my heart. What
post do you design for me?"
Lord Dawton changed countenance. "Why — really
•^ Pelham, we have not yet filled up the lesser appoint-
ADVENTURES 0-F A GENTLEMAN. 95
ments, but you shall be well remembered — well, my dear
Pelham — be sure of it."
I looked at the noble speaker with a glauee which, I
flatter myself, is peculiar to me. Is, thought I, the embryo
minister playing upon me as upon one of his dependent
tools ? Let him beware I The anger of the moment passed
ftway.
''Lord Dawton,'* said I, "one word, and I have done
discussing my claims for the present. Do you mean to
place me in Parliament as soon as you are in the cabinet f
What else you intend for me, I question not."
" Yes, assuredly, Pelham. How can you doubt it ? "
"Enough I — and now read this letter from France."
* * * * iii
4e 3|c ♦ 4e 4e
Two days after my interview with Lord Dawton, as I
was riding leisurely through the Green Park, iq no very
bright and social mood, one of the favored carriages, whose
owners are permitted to say, " Hie iter est nobis,^' over-
took me. A sweet voice ordered the coachman to stop,
and then addressed itself to me.
" What I the hero of Chester Park returned, without
having once narrated his adventures to me ? "
"Beautiful Lady Roseville," said I, " I plead guilty of
negligence — not treason. I forgot, it is true, to appear
before you, but I forget not the devotion of my duty now
that I behold you. Command, and I obey."
" See, Ellen," said Lady Roseville, turning to a bending
and blushing countenance beside her, which I then first
9({ PELHAM; OB,
percei7ed — " see what it is to be a knigbt-errant ; CTer
bis language is wortbj of Amadis of Gaol — bat — (agaiii
addressing me) yoar ad yen tares are really too shocking a
subject to treat lightly. We lay our serious orders on you
to come to our castle this night ; we shall be alone."
** Willingly shall I repair to your bower, fayre ladie ;
but tell me, I beseech you, how many persons are signified
in the word ' alone ? ' "
" Why," answered Lady Roseville, " I fear we may hare
a few people with us ; but I think, Ellen, we may promise
our chevalier that the number shall not exceed twelve."
I bowed and rode on. What worlds would I not have
given to have touched the hand of the countess's compan-
ion, though only for an instant But — and that fearful
but, chilled me, like an icebolt. I put spurs to my horse,
and dashed fiercely onwards. There was rather a high
wind stirring, and I bent my face from it, so as scarcely
to see the course of my spirited and impatient horse.
" What ho, sir I — what ho I " cried a shrill voice — " for
Heaven's sake, don't ride over me before dinner, whatever
you do after it I "
I pulled up. "Ah, Lord Guloseton I how happy I am
to see you ; pray forgive my blindness, and my horse's
stupidity."
" 'Tis an ill wind," answered the noble gourmand, " which
blows nobody good ; — an excellent proverb, the veracity
of which is daily attested ; for however unpleasant a keen
wind may be, there is no doubt of its being a marvellous
whetter of that greatest of Heaven's blessings — an appe*
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 91
Hie. Little, however, did I expect, that besides blowing
me a relish for my saiUe de foie gras, it would also blow
me one who might, probably, be a partaker of my enjoy-
ment. Honor me with your company at dinner to-day."
"What saloon will you dine in, my Lord LucuUus f "
said I, in allusion to the custom of the epicure, by whose
name I addressed him.
" The saloon of Diana," replied Guloseton — " for she
must certainly have shot the fine buck of which Lord H.
sent me the haunch that we shall have to-day. It is the
true old Meynell breed. I ask you not to meet Mr. So-
and-so, and Lord What-d'ye-call-him : I ask you to meet
a 8atU6 de foie gras, and a haunch of Tenison.''
" I will most certainly pay them my respects. Never
did I know before how far things were better company
than persons. Tour lordship has taught me that great
truth."
** God bless me I " cried Guloseton, with an air of vex-
ation, '* here comes the Duke of Stilton, a horrid person,
who told me the other day, at my petit diner, when I
apologized to him for some strange error of my arti8te%
by which common vinegar had been substituted for Chili
—who told me — what think you he told me ? Yon cannot
guess, — he told me, forsooth, that he did not care what he
ate ; and, for his part, he could make a very good dinner off
a beef-steak I Why the deuce, then, did he come and dine
with me f Could he have said anything more cutting ?
Imagine my indignation, when I looked round my table
IL— 9
98 pelham; or,
and saw so many good things thrown away upon each an
idiot. »'
Scarcely was the last word out of the gourmand's month
before the noble personage so designated joined ns. It
amused me to see Ouloseton's contempt; (which he scarcely
took the pains to suppress) of a person whom all Europe
honored, and his evident weariness of a companion, whose
society every one else would have coveted as the summum
honum of worldly distinction. As for me, feeling anything
but social, I soon left the ill-matched pair, and rode into
the other park.
Just as I entered it, I perceived, on a dull, yet cross-
looking pony, Mr. Wormwood, of bitter memory. Although
we had not met since our mutual sojourn at Sir Lionel
Garrett's, and were then upon very cool terms of acquaint-
ance, he seemed resolved to recognize and claim me.
" My dear sir," said he, with a ghastly smile, " I am
rejoiced once more to see you ; bless me, how pale you
look I I heard you had been very ill. Pray, have you
been yet to that man who professes to cure consumption
in the worst stages ? "
" Yes," said I, " he read me two or three letters ot
reference from the patients he had cured. His last, ho
said, was a gentleman very far gone — a Mr. Wormwood."
" Oh, you are pleased to be facetious," said the cynic,
coldly — "but pray do tell me about that horrid affair at
Chester Park. How disagreeable it mast have been to
you to be taken up on suspicion of the murder ! "
** Sir," said I, haughtily, "what do you mean ? "
ADVBNTUBES OF A GENTLEMAN. 99
"Oh, you were not — weren't you? Well, I always
thought it unlikely ; but every one says so "
" My dear sir," I rejoined, " how loiig is it since yoo
have minded what every body says f If I were so foolish,
I should not be riding with you now ; but I have always
said, in contradiction to every body, and even in spite of
being universally laughed at for my singular opinion, that
you, my dear Mr. Wormwood, were by no means silly, nor
ignorant, nor insolent, nor intrusive ; that you were, on the
contrary, a very decent author, and a very good sort of
man ; and that you were so benevolent, that you daily
granted, to some one or other, the greatest happiness in
your power : it is a happiness, I am now about to enjoy,
and it consists in wishing you ' good-bye P " And without
waiting for Mr. Wormwood's answer, I gave the rein to
my horse, and was soon lost among the crowd, which had
now begun to assemble.
Hyde Park is a stupid place. The English of the fash-
ionable world make business an enjoyment, and enjoyment
a business : they are born without a smile ; they rove about
public places like so many easterly winds — cold, sharp,
and cutting ; or like a group of fogs on a frosty day, sent
out of his hall by Boreas, for the express purpose of looking
black at one another. When they ask you, " how you do,"
you would think they were measuring the length of your
coffin. They are ever, it is true, laboring to be agree-
able ; but they are like Sisyphus, the stone they roll up
the hill with so much toil, runs down again, and hits you
a thump on the legs. They are sometimes polite, but
lOd pelham; OB,
invariablj uncivil ; their warmth is always artificial — «
their cold never ; they are stiff without dignity, and cringing
without manners. They offer you an affront, and call it
"plain truth; " they wound your feelings, and tell you it
is manly ^Ho speak their minds ;" at the same time, while
they have neglected all the graces and charities of artifice,
they have adopted all its falsehood and deceit While
they profess to abhor servility, they adulate the peerage ;
while they tell you they care not a rush for the minister,
they move heaven and earth for. an invitation from the
minister's wife. Then their amusements I — the heat —
the dust — the sameness — the slowness, of that odious
park in the morning I and the same exquisite scene repeat-
ed in the evening, on the condensed stage of a rout-room,
where one has more heat, with less air, and a narrower
dungeon, with diminished possibility of escape I — w6
wander about like the damned in the story of Yathek
and we pass our lives, like the royal philosopher of PrusBia,
in coigugating the verb, Je m^ennuis.
ADYENTTTBE8 OlT A OXNTLKMAN. 101
CHAPTER LXVII.
-*'— In solo yiyendi causa palato est. — Juvenal.
— > They would talk of nothing but high life, and high-lived
company; with other fashionable topics, such as pictures^ taste,
Shakspeare, and the mpsical glasses.— Vicar of Wakefield,
The reflectioDS which closed the last chapter will serve
to show that I was in no very amiable or convivial temper,
when I drove to Lord Guloseton's dinner. However, in
the world, it matters little what may be onr real mood,
the mask hides the bent brow and the writhing lip.
Gnloseton was stretched on his sofa, gazing with upward
eye at the beautiful Yenus which hung above his hearth.
" YoQ are welcome, Pelham ; I am worshipping my
household divinity I "
I prostrated myself on the opposite sofa, and made
some answer to the classical epicure, which made us both
laugh heartily. We then talked of pictures, painters,
poets, the ancients, and Dr. Henderson on Wines ; ye
gave ourselves up, without restraint, to the enchanting
fascination of the last-named subject; and, our mutual
enthusiasm confirming onr cordiality, we went down stairs
tq onr dinner, as charmed with each other as boon com-
panions always should be.
** This is as it should be,'' said I, looking round at the
well-filled table, and the sparkling spirits immersed in the
9*
102 pelham; ob,
ice-pails ; " a genume friendly dinner. It is very rarely
tbat I dare entrust nayself to such extempore hospitality
— miserum est aliend vivere quadra; — a friendly dinner,
a family meal, are things from which I fly with undisguised
aversion. It is very hard, that *n England, one cannot
have a friend, on pain of being shot or poisoned ; if yoa
refuse his familiar invitations, he thinks you mean to affront
him, and says something rude, for which you are forced to
challenge him; if you accept them,»you perish beneath
the weight of boiled mutton and turnips, or "
"My dear friend," interrupted Guloseton, with big
mouth full, *'it is very true ; but this is no time for talking ;
let U8 eat.^^
I acknowledged the justice of the rebuke, and we did not
iiiterchange another word beyond the exclamations of
surprise, pleasure, admiration, or dissatisfaction, called up
by the objects which engrossed our attention, till we found
ourselves alone with our dessert.
When I thought my host had imbibed a sufficient quan-
tity of wine, I once more renewed my attack. I had tried
him before upon that point of vanity which is centred in
power, and political consideration, but in vain ; I now
Dethought me of another.
" How few persons there are," said I, " capable of giving
even a tolerable dinner — how many capable of admiring
one worthy of estims^tion I I could imagine no greater
triumph for the ambitious epicure, than to see at his board
the first and most honored persons of the state, all lost in
wonder at the depth, the variety, the purity, the muufic^nce
ADVENTURES OP A GENTLEMAN. V\Z
of his taste ; all forgetting, in the extorted respect which
a gratified palate never fails to produce, the more visionary
schemes and projects which usually occupy their thoughts ;
— to find those whom all England are soliciting for posts
and power, become, in their turn, eager and craving as-
pirants for places at his table ; — to know that all the
grand movements of the ministerial body are planned and
agitated over the inspirations of his viands and the excite-
ment of his wine. . From a haunch of venison, like the
one of which we have partaken to-day, what noble and
substantial measures might arise I From a sautS defoie,
what delicate subtleties of finesse might have their origin I
From a ragout d lafinancidre, what godlike improvements
in taxation I Oh, could such a lot be mine, I would envy
neither Napoleon for the goodness of his fortune, nor
S for the grandeur of his genius."
Quloseton laughed. *' The ardor of your enthusiasm
blinds your philosophy, my dear Pelham ; like Montes-
quieu, the liveliness of your fancy often makes you advance
paradoxes which the consideration of your judgment
would afterwards condemn. For instance, you must allow
that if one had all those fine persons at one's table, one
would be forced to talk more, and consequently to eat
less : moreover, you would either be excited by your
triumph, or you would not, — that is indisputable ; if you
are not excited, you have the bore for nothing ; if you are
excited, you spoil your digestion : nothing is so detrimental
to the stomach as the feverish inquietude of the passions.
All philosophies recommend calm as the to kalon of theii
2b
104 pelham; OR,
code ; and you must perceive, that if, in the course you
advise, one has occasional opportunities of pride, one also
has those of mortification. Mortification I terrible word ;
how many apoplexies have arisen from its source ! No.
Pelham, away with ambition ; fill your glass, and learn»
at last, the secret of real philosophy."
" Confound the man ! " was my mental anathema. —
" Long life to the Solomon of sautis,^^ was my audible
exclamation.
" There is something," resumed Guloseton, " in your
countenance and manner, at once so frank, lively, and
ingenuous, that one is not only prepossessed in your favor,
but desirous of your friendship. I tell you, therefore, in
confidence, that nothing more amuses me than to see the
courtship I receive from each party. I laugh at all the
unwise and passionate contests in which others are enga-
ged, and I would as soon think of entering into the chivalry
of Don Quixote, or attacking the visionary enemies of the
Bedlamite, as of taking part in the fury of politicians. At
present, looking afar off at their delirium, I can ridicule
it ; were I to engage in it, I should be hurt by it. I have
no wish to become the weeping, instead of the laughing,
philosopher. I sl^ep well now — I have no desire to sleep
ill. I eat well — why should I lose my appetite ? I am
undisturbed and un attacked in the enjoyments best suited
to my taste — for what purpose should I be hurried into
the abuse of the journalists and the witticisms of pam-
phleteers ? I can ask those whom I like to my house —
why should I be forcedin to asking those whom I do not
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. lOt^
like 1 In fine, my good Pelham, why should I sour my
temper and shorten my life, put my green old age into
flannel and physic, and become, from the happiest of sages,
the most miserable of fools ? Ambition reminds me of
what Bacon says of anger — 'It is like rain, it breaks
itself upon that which it falls on.' Pelham, my boy, taste
the Gkdteau MargSL
However hurt my vanity might be in having so ill suc-
ceeded in my object, I could not help smiling with satis-
faction at my entertainer's principles of wisdom. My
diplomatic honor, however, was concerned, and I resolved
yet to gain him. If, hereafter, I succeeded, it was by a very
different method from any I had yet taken ; meanwhile, I
departed from the house of this modern Apicius with &
new insight into the great book of mankind, and a new
conclusion from its pages ; viz. that no virtue can make so
perfect a philosopher as the senses. There is no contend
like that of the epicure — no active code of morals st
difficult to conquer as the inertness of his indolence ; he it
the only being in the world for whom the present hag s
supremer gratification than the future.
My cabriolet soon whirled me to Lady Roseville's door;
the first person I saw in the drawing-room, was Ellen.
She lifted up her eyes with that familiar sweetness with
which they had long since learnt to welcome me. " She
is the sister of a murderer I " was the thought that curdled
my blood, and I bowed distantly and passed on.
I met Vincent. He seemed dispirited and dejected.
He already saw how ill his party had succeeded ; above
/■
106 PELHAM; OR,
all, he was enraged at the idea of the person assigned bj
rumoar to fill the place he had intended for himself. This
person was a sort of rival to his lordship, a man of qnaint-
ness and quotation, with as much learning as Vincent,
equal wit, and — but that personage is still in office, and
I will say no more, lest he should think I flatter.
To our subject. It has probably been observed that
Lord Yincent had indulged less of late in that peculiar
strain of learned humor formerly his wont. The fact is,
that he had been playing another part; he wished to
remove from his character that appearance of literary
coxcombry with which he was charged. He knew well
how necessary, in the game of politics, it is to appear no
less a man of the world than of books ; and though he
was not averse to display his clerkship and scholastic
Information, yet he endeavored to make them seem rather
valuable for their weight, than curious for their fashion.
How few there are in the world who retain, after a certain
age, the character originally natural to them ! We ah
get, as it were, a second skin ; the little foibles, propen-
sities, eccentricities, we first indulged through afifectation,
conglomerate and encrust till the artificiality grows into
nature.
"Pelham," said Vincent, with a cold smile, "the day
will be yours ; the battle is not to the strong — the Whigs
will triumph. * Fugire Pudor, verum que^ fidesque ; in
quorum subHre locum fraudesque dolique insidiaeque^
et vis, et amor sceleraiua habendi,^^^*
* << Shame, Truth, and Faith have flown ; in their stead oreep is
frauds* oraft, snares, force, and the rasoally love of gain."
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN iOI
"A pretty modest quotation,'' said I. "You must allow,
at least, that the amor scelercUus habendi was also, in
some moderate degree, shared bj the Pudor and Fides
which characterize your party ; otherwise I am at a loss
how to account for the tough struggle against us we have
lately had the honor of resisting."
" Never mind," replied Vincent, " I will not refute you :
— It is not for us, the defeated, to argue with you, the
victors. But pray, (continued Vincent, with a sneer which
pleased me not,) pray, among this windfall of the Hespe-
rian fruit, what nice little apple will fall to your share ? ''
" My good Vincent, don't let us anticipate ; if any such
apple should come into my lap, let it not be that of
discord between us."
" Who talks of discord ? " asked Lady Roseville, join-
ing us.
" Lord Vincent," said I, " fancies himself the celebrated
fruit, on which was written, detur pulchriori, to be given
to the fairest. Suffer me, therefore, to make him a present
to your ladyship."
Vincent muttered something which, as I really liked
and esteemed him, I was resolved not to hear ; accordingly
I turned to another part of the room : there I found Lady
Dawton — she was a tall, handsome woman, as proud aa
a liberal's wife ought to be. She received me with unusual
graciousness, and I sat myself beside her. Three dowa-
gers, and an old beau of the old school, were already
sharing the conversation with the haughty countess. I
fouud that the topic was society.,
108 pelham; OB,
" No," said the old beau, who was entitled Mr. Claren-
don, "society is very diflferent from what it was in ray
younger days. You remember, Lady Paulet, those de-
lightful parties at D House ? Where shall we ever
find anything like them ? Such ease, such company —
even the mixture was so piquant ; if one chanced to sit
next a bourgeois, he was sure to be distinguished for hia
wit or talent. People were not tolerated, as now, merely
for their riches."
" True," cried Lady Dawton, */it is the introduction of
low persons, without any single pretension, which spoils
the society of the present day I " And the three dowa-
gers sighed amen, to this remark.
"And yet," said I, "since J may safely say so here
without being suspected of a personality in the shape of
a compliment, don't you think, that without any such
mixture we should be very indifferent company ? Do we
not find those dinners and soiries the pleasantest where
we see a minister next to a punster, a poet to a prince,
and a coxcomb like me next to a beauty like Lady Dawton ?
The more variety there is in the conversation, the more
agreeable it becomes I "
" Very just," answered Mr. Clarendon ; " but it is pre-
cisely because I wish for that variety that I dislike a
miscellaneous society. If one does not know the person
beside whom one has the happiness of sitting, what possible
subject can one broach with any prudence. I put politics
aside, because, thanks to party spirit, we rarely meet those
we are strongly opposed to ; but if we sneer at the metho-
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN 109
iists, oar neighbor may be a saint — if we abuse a new
book, he may have written it — if we observe that the
tone of the piano-forte is bad, his father may have made
it — if we complain of the uncertainty of the commercial
interest, his uncle may have been gazetted last week. I
name no exaggerated instances ; on the contrary, I refer
these general remarks to particular individuals, whom all
of us have probably met. Thus, you see, that a variety
of topics is proscribed in a mixed company, because some
one or other of them will be certain to offend."
Perceiving that we listened to him with attention, Mr.
Clarendon continued -^ '* Nor is this more than a minor
objection to the great mixture prevalent amongst us : a
more important one may be found in the universal imitation
it produces. The influx of common persons being once
permitted, certain sets recede, as it were, from the con-
tamination, and contract into very diminished coteries.
Living familiarly solely amongst themselves, however they
may be forced into visiting promiscuously, they imbibe
certain manners, certain peculiarities in mode and words
— even in an accent or a pronunciation, which are confined
to themselves: and whatever differs from these little
eccentricities, they are apt to condemn as vulgar and
suburban. Now, the fastidiousness of these sets making
them diflScult of intimate access, even to many of their
superiors in actual rank, those very superiors, by a natural
feeling in human nature, of prizing what is rare, even if
H is worthless, are the. first to solicit their acquaintance ;
and, as a sign that they enjoy it, to imitate those peculi*
II. — 10
no pelham; OB;
aritles which are the especial hieroglyphics of this sacred
few. The lower grades catch the contagion, and imitcUe
those they imagine most likely to know the essentials of
the mode ; and thus manners, unnatural to all, are trans-
mitted second-hand, third-hand, fourth-hand, till they ars
ultimately filtered into something worse than no manners
at all. Hence, you perceive all people timid, stiff, unnatu-
ral, and ill at ease ; they are dressed up in a garb which
does not fit them, to which they have neyer been accus-
tomed, and are as little at home as the wild Indian m tho
boots and garments of the more civilized European."
"And hence," said I, " springs that universal vulgarity
of idea, as well as manner, which pervades all society —
for nothing is so plebeian as imitation."
"A very evident truism I " said Clarendon. " What I
lament most, is the injudicious method certain persons
took to change this order of things, and diminish the
d^sagrimens of the mixture we speak of. I remember
well, when Almack's was first set up, the intention was to
keep away the rich rdturiers from a place, the tone of
which was also intended to be contrary to their own.
For this purpose the patronesses were instituted, the
price of admission made extremely low, and all ostentatious
refreshments discarded : it was an admirable institution
for the interests of the little oligarchy who ruled it — but
it has only increased the general imitation and vulgarity.
Perhaps the records of that institution contain things more
disgraceful to the aristocracy of England, than the whole
history of Europe can furnish. And how could the Men^
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. HI
neurs et Mesdames Jourdains help following the servile
and debasing example of Monseigneur le Dtw et Fair J "
** How strange it is/' said one of the dowagers, " that
of all the novels on society with which we are annually
inundated, there is scarcely one which gives even a tolera-
ble description of it 1 "
** Not strange/' said Clarendon, with a formal smile,
'' if your ladyship will condescend to reflect. Most of the
writers npon our little great world have seen nothing of
it : at most, they have been occasionally admitted into the
routs of the B.'s and C.'s of the second, or rather the third
set. A very few are, it is true, gentlemen ; but gentlemen,
who are not writers, are as bad as writers who are not
gentlemen. In one work, which, since it is popular,!
.will not name, there is a stiffness and stiltedness in the
dialogue and descriptions perfectly ridiculous. The author
makes his countesses always talking of their family, and
his earls always quoting the peerage. There is as much
fuss about state, and dignity, and pride, as if the greatest
amongsl us were not far too busy with the petty affairs
of the W'»rld to have time for such lofty vanities. There
is only one rule necessary for a clever writer who wishes
to deliDeate the beau monde. It is this : let him consider
that ' dukes, and lords, and noble princes,' eat, drink, talk,
move, exactly the same as any other class of civilized
people — nay, the very subjects in conversation are, for
the most part, the same in all sets — only, perhaps, they
are somewhat more familiarly and easily treated with us
i\&n among the lower orders, who fancy rank is distin*
112 pelham; oe,
guished by pomposity, and that state affairs are discnssed
with the solemnity of a tragedy — that we are always my
lording and my ladying each other: — that we ridicale
commoners, and curl oar hair with Debrett's Peerage."
We all laughed at this speech, the truth of which we
readily acknowledged.
" Nothing," said Lady Dawton, " amuses me more than
to see the great distinction which novel-t^rriters make
between the titled and the untitled ; they seem to be
perfectly unaware that a commoner, of ancient family and
large fortune, is very often of far more real rank and esti-
mation, and even weighty in what they are pleased to term
fashion, than many of the members of the Upper House.
And what amuses me as much, is the no distinction they
make between all people who have titles : — Lord A ,
the little baron, is exactly the same as Lord Z , the
great marquess, equally haughty and equally important."
**Mai8f mon Dicu," said a little French count, who had
just joined us ; " how is it that you can expect to find a
description of society entertaining, when the society itself
is so dull f — the closer the copy, the more tiresome it
must be. Your manner, pour voua amuser, consists in
standing on a crowded staircase, and complaining that
you are terribly bored. Lion a^accoutume difficilemeni
d une vie qui se passe sur Vescalier.^^
" It is very true," said Clarendon, " we cannot defend
ourselves. We are a very sensible, thinking, brave, sag&.
cious, generous, industrious, noble-minded people ; but it
must be confessed, that we are terrible bores to ourselves
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 113
and all the rest of the world. Lady Paalet, if you art
going so soon, honor me by accepting my arm.''
" You should say your handf" said the Frenchman.
"Pardon me," answered the gallant old bean ; '*! say,
with your brave countryman when he lost his legs in battle,
and was asked by a lady, like the one who now leans on
me whether he would not sooner have lost his arms ? * No,
madam,' said he, (and this, Monsieur le Gomte, is the
answer I give to your rebuke;) ' I want my hands to gaard
my heart.'"
Finding our little knot was now broken up, I went
into another part of the room, and joined Vincent, Lady
Roseville, Ellen, and one or two other persons who were
assembled round a table covered with books and prints.
Ellen was sitting on one side of Lady Roseville ; there
was a vacant chair next her, but I avoided it, and seated
myself on the other side of Lady Roseville.
" Pray, Miss Glanville," said Lord Vincent, taking up
a thin volume, " do you greatly admire the poems of this
lady ? "
** What, Mrs. Hemans ? " answered Ellen^ " I am more
enchanted with her poetry than I can express : if that is
*The Forest Sanctuary' which you have taken up, I am
sure you will bear me out in my admiration."
Vincent turned over the leaves with the quiet cynicism
of manner habitual to him ; but his countenance grew
animated after he had read two pages. ** This is, indeed,
beautiful," said he, " really and genuinely beautiful. How
singular that such a work should not be more known ! I
10*
114 pelham; or,
never met with it before. Bat whose pencil-marks are
these?"
"Mine, I believe," said Ellen, modestly.
And Ladj Koseville turned the conversation npon
Lord Byron.
"I must confess, for my part," sftid Lord Edward
Neville (an author of some celebrity and more merit),
"that I am exceedingly weary of those doleful ditties
with which we have been favored for so many years. No
sooner had Lord Byron declared himself unhappy, than
every young gentleman with a pale face and dark hair,
thought himself justified in frowning in the glass and
writing Odes to Despair. All persons who could scribble
two lines were sure to make them into rhymes of 'blight'
and 'night' Never was there so grand 2i penchant for
the triste."
" It would be interesting enough," observed Vincent,
" to trace the origin of this melancholy mania. People
are wrong to attribute it to poor Lord Byron — it cer-
tainly came from Germany ; perhaps Werter was the first
hero of that school."
" There seems," said I, " an unaccountable prepossession
among all persons, to imagine that whatever seems gloomy
must be profound, and whatever is cheerful must be
shallow. They have put poor Philosophy into deep
mourning, and given her a coffin for a writing-desk, and
a skull for an inkstand."
" Oh," cried Vincent, " I remember some lines so ap-
plicable to your remark, that I must forthwith interrupt
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 115
jou, ia order to introdace them. Madame de Stael said,
in one of her works, that melancholy was a source of
perfection. Listen now to my author —
'Une femme nous dit, et nous prouve en effet,
Qu'avant quelques mille ans Thomme sera parfaiti
Qa'il deyra cet 6tat k la milaneolie.
On aait que la tristeaae annones le ginie;
Nous ayons d6j& fait des progr^s ^tonnans ;
Que de tristes Merits — que de tristes romans!
Des plus noires horreurs nous sommes idol&tres,
£t la m^lancolie a gagn^ nos th^&tres."'*
" What ! " cried I, " are you so well acquainted witn
my favorite book ? "
" Yours I " exclaimed Vincent. " Gods, what a sympa-
thy f ; it has long been my most familiar acquaintance ;
but—
** * Tell us what bath chanced to-day,
That Caesar looks so sad ? ' "
My eye followed Vincent's to ascertain the meaning of
this question, and rested upon Glanville, who had that
moment entered the room. I might have known that he
was expected, by Lady Roseville's abstraction, the reat-
lessness with which she started at times from her seat, and
*<*A woman tells us, and in fact she proves.
That man, though slowly, to perfection mo^es;
But to be perfect, first we must be sad;
Genius, we know, is melancholly mad.
Already Time our startling progress hails;
What cheerless essays ! — what disastrous tales I
Horror has grown the amusement of the age,
And Mirth despairing yawns, and flies the stage.
f La Gastroaomie, Poeme, par J. Berchouz.
n
IIG pelham; or,
as instantly resumed it ; and the fond expecting lookfl
cowards the door, every time it shut or opened, which
denote so strongly the absent and dreaming heart of the
woman who loves.
Glanville seemed paler than nsnal, and perhaps even
sadder ; bat he was less distrait and abstracted ; no sooner
did he see, than he approached me, and extended his hand
with great cordiality. His hand I thought I, and I could
not bring myself to accept it ; I merely addressed him in
the common-place salutation. He looked hard and in-
quisitively at me, and then turned abruptly away. Lady
Roseville had risen from her chair — her eyes followed
him. He had thrown himself on a settee near the window.
She went up to him, and sat herself by his side. I turned
— my face burned — my heart beat — I was now next to
Ellen Glanville ; she was looking down, apparently em-
ployed with some engravings, but I thought her hand
trembled.
There was a pause. Vincent was talking with the other
occupiers of the table : a woman, at such times, is always
the first to speak. " We have not seen you, Mr. Pelham,"
said Ellen, "since your return to town."
" I have been very ill," I answered, and I felt my voice
falter. Ellen looked up anxiously at my face ; I could
not brook those large, deep, tender eyes, and it now
became my turn to occupy myself with the prints.
" You do look pale," she said, in a low voice. I did
not trust myself with a further remark — dissimulator as
I was to others, I was like a guilty child before the woman
ADYSNTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. IH
I ioved. There was another pause — at last Ellen said,
"How do you think my brother looks?''
I started ; yes, he was her brother, and I was once more
myself at that thought. I answered so coldly, and almost
haughtily, that Ellen colored, and said with some dignity
that she should join Lady Roseville. I bowed slightly,
and she withdrew to the countess. I seized my hat and
departed — but not utterly alone — I had managed to se-
crete the book which Ellen's hand had marked : through
many a bitter day and' sleepless night, that book has been
my only companion : I have it before me now ; and it is
open at a page which is yet blistered with the traces of
former tears !
CHAPTER LXVIII.
—^ Our mistress is a little given to philosophy : what dispata-
tions shall we haye here by and by? — Gil Blas.
It was now but seldom that I met Ellen, for I went
little into general society, and grew every day more en-
grossed in political affairs. Sometimes, however, when,
wearied of myself, and my graver occupations, I yielded
to my mother's solicitations, and went to one of the nightly
haunts of the goddess we term Pleasure ^ and the Greeks
Moriaf the game of dissipation (to use a Spanish proverb)
Bhuffled us together. It was then that I had the most
118 pelham; or,
difficult task of mj life to learn and to perform ; to check
the lip — the eye — the soul — to heap curb on curb, upon
the gushings of the heart, which daily and hourly yearned
to overflow ; and to feel, that while the mighty and rest-
less tides of passion were thus fettered and restrained, all
within was a parched and arid wilderness, that wasted
itself, for want of very moisture, away. Yet there was
something grateful in the sadness with which I watched
her form in the dance, or listened to her voice in the
Bong ; and I felt soothed, and even happy, when my fancy
flattered itself, that her step never now seemed so light,
as it was wont to be when in harmony with mine, nor the
songs that pleased her most, so gay as those that were
formerly her choice.
Distant and unobserved, I loved to feed my eyes upon
her pale cheek and downcast eye ; to note the abstraction
that came over her at moments, even when her glance
seemed brightest, and her lip most fluent ; and to know,
that while a fearful mystery might for ever forbid the
union of our hands, there was an invisible, but electric
chain, which connected the sympathies of our hearts.
Ah I why is it, that the noblest of our passions should
be also the most selflsh ? — that while we would make all
earthly sacrifice for the one we love, we are perpetually
demanding a sacrifice in return ; that if we cannot have
the rapture of blessing, we find a consolation in the power
to afflict ; and that we acknowledge, while we reprobato,
the maxim of the sage : " L^on veutfaire tout le bonheur^
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 110
ou, si cela rie se pent ainsi, tout le malheur de ce qu'on
mime. " *
The beauty of Ellen was not of that nature which rests
solely upon the freshness of youth, nor even the magic of
expression ; it was as faultless as it was dazzling ; no one
could deny its excess or its perfection ; her praises came
constantly to my ear, into whatever society I went. Say
what we will of the power of love, it borrows greatly from
opinion : pride, above all things, sanctions and strength-
ens affection. When all voices were united to panegyrize
her beauty, — whea I knew, that the powers of her wit
— the charms of her conversation — the accurate judg-
ment, united to the sparkling imagination, were even
/nore remarkable characteristics of her mindf than love-
liness of her person, I could not but feel my ambition, as
well as my tenderness, excited : I dwelt with a double in-
tensity on my choice, and with a tenfold bitterness on the
obstacle which forbade me to indulge it.
Yet there was one circumstance, to which, in spite of
all the evidence against Reginald, my mind still fondly
and eagerly clung. In searching the pockets of the un-
fortunate Tyrrell, the money he had mentioned to me as
being in his possession, could not be discovered. Had
Glanville been the murderer, at all events he could not
have been the robber. It was true that in the death scuffla,
which in all probability took place, the money might have
fallen from the person of the deceased, either among the
* '* One wishes to make all the happiness, or, if that is forbiddeiL
#V the unhappiness of the being we loye."
2f
120 pelham; or,
long grass which grew rankly and luxuriantly around, or
in the sullen and slimy pool, close to which the murder
was perpetrated ; it Was also possible, that Thornton,
knowing that the deceased had so large a sum about him,
and not being aware that the circumstance had been com-
municated ,to me or any one else, might not have been
able (when he and Dawson first went to the spot) to resist
80 great a temptation. However, there was a slight
crevice In this fact, for a sunbeam of hope to enter, and I
was too sanguine, by habitual temperament and present
passion, not to turn towards it from the geheral darkness
of my thoughts.
With Glanville I was often brought into immediate
contact. Both united in the same party, and engaged in
concerting the same measures : we frequently met in public,
and sometimes even alone. However, I was invariably
cold and distant, and Glanville confirmed rather than
diminished my suspicions, by making no commentary on
my behavior, and imitating it in the indifi'erence of his
own. Yet, ix was with a painful and aching heart, that
I marked in his emaciated form and sunken cheek, the
gradual, but certain progress of disease and death ; and
while all England rang with the renown of the young,
but almost unrivalled orator, and both parties united in
anticipating the certainty and brilliancy of his success, I
felt how improbable it was, that, even if his crime escaped
the unceasing vigilance of justice, this living world would
long possess any traces of his genius but the remembrance
of his name. There was something in his love of letters,
ADVENTUEES OF A GENTLEMAN. 121
his habits of luxury and expense, the energy of his mind
— the solitude, the darkness, the hauteur, the reserve of
his manners and life, which reminded me of the German
Wallenstein ; nor was he altogi8ther without the super-
stition of that evil, but extraordinary man. It is true
that he was not addicted to the romantic fables of astrol*
ogy, but he was an earnest, though secret, advocate of
the world of spirits. He did not utterly disbelieve the
various stories of their return to earth and their visits to
the living ; and it would have been astonishing.to me, had
I been a less diligent observer of human inconsistencies,
to mark a mind, otherwise so reasoning and strong, in this
respect so credulous and weak ; and to witness its reception
of a belief, not only so adverse to ordinary reflection, but
80 absolutely contradictory to the philosophy it passion-
ately cultivated, and the principles it obstinately espoused.
One evening, I, Vincent, and Clarendon, were alone at
Lady Roseville's, when Reginald and his sister entered.
I rose to depart ; the beautiful Countess would not suffer
it ; and when I looked at Ellen, and saw her blush at my
glance, the weakness of my heart conquered, and I re-
mained.
Our conversation turned partly upon books, and prin-
cipally on the science du coeur et du mondef for Lady
Roseville was un pen philosophe, as well as more than
un peu littiraire ; and her house, like those of the Du
Deffands and D'Epinays of the old Freqch regime, was
one where serious subjects were cultivated, as. well as the
tighter ones ; where it was the mode to treat no less upon
II. — 11
122 pelham; or,
things than to scandalize persons ; and where maxims on
men and reflections on manners were as much iu their
places, as strictures on the Opera and invitations to balls.
All who were now assembled were more or less suited
to one another ; all were people of the world, and yet
occasional students of the closet ; but all had a different
method of expressing their learning or their observations.
Clarendon was dry, formal, shrewd, and possessed of the
suspicious philosophy common to men hackneyed in the
world. Vincent relieved his learning by the quotation or
metaphor, or originality of some sort, with which it was
'expressed. Lady Roseville seldom spoke much, but when
she did, it was rather with grace than solidity. She was
naturally melancholy and pensive, and her observations
partook of the colorings o'f her mind ; but she was also a
dame de la cour^ accustomed to conceal,' and her lan-
guage was gay and trifling, while the sentiments it clothed
were pensive and sad.
Ellen Glanville was an attentive listener, but a diffident
speaker. Though her knowledge was even masculine
for its variety and -extent, she was averse from displaying
it ; the childish, the lively, the tender, were the outward
traits of her character — the flowers were above, but the
mine was beneath ; one noted the beauty of the first —
one seldom dreamt of the value of the last.
Glanville's favorite method of expressing himself was
terse and sententious. He did not love the labor of
detail : he conveyed the knowledge of years in an axiom.
Sometimes he was fanciful, sometimes false ; but, gene*
rally dark, melancholj, and bitter.
ADVEMTUBES OF A GENTLEMAN. 123
As for me, I entered more into conversation at Lady
Roseville's than I usually do elsewhere ; being, accord-
ing to my favorite philosophy, gay on the serious, and
serious on the gay ; and, perhaps, this is a juster method
of treating the. two than would be readily imagined ; for
things which are usually treated with importance, are,
for the most part, deserving of ridicule : and those which
we receive as trifles, swell themselves into a consequence
we little dreamt of, before they depart.
Vincent took up a volume : it was Shelley's Posthumous
Poems. " How fine," said he, " some of these are ! but
they are fine fragments of an architecture in bad taste :
they are imperfect in themselves, and faulty in the school
they belong to ; yet, such as they are, the master-hand
is evident upon them. They are like the pictures of Paul
Veronese — often offending the eye, often irritating the
judgment, but breathing of something vast and lofty —
their very faults are majestic ; — this age, perhaps no
other, will ever do them justice — but the disciples of
future schools will make glorious pillage of their remains.
The writings of Shelley would furnish matter for a hundred
volumes ; they are an admirable niuseum of ill-arranged
curiosities — they are diamonds awkwardly set ; but one
of them, in the hands of a skilful jeweller, would be in-
estimable ; and the poet of the future will serve him as
Mercury did the tortoise in his own translation from Homer
---make him 'sing sweetly when he's dead I ' Their lyres
will be made out of his shelV^
'*If Ijudge rightly," said Clarendon, "his literary
124 peluam; or,
fanlts wer^ these ; he waa too learned in* his poetry, and
too poetical in his learning. Learning is the bane of a
poet Imagine how beautifal Petrarch would be without
his platonic conceits ; fancy the luxuriant imagination of
Cowley, left to run wild among the lofty objects of nature,
not the minute peculiarities of art. Even Milton, who
made a more graceful and gorgeous use of learning, than,
perhaps, any other poet, would have been far more popular
if he had been more familiar. Poetry is for the multitude
— erudition for the few. In proportion as you mix them,
erudition will gain in readers, and poetry lose."
" True," said Glanville ; " and thus the poetical, among
philosophers, are the most popular of their time ; and the
philosophical among poets, the least popular of theirs."
"Take care," said Vincent, smiling, "that we are not
misled by the point of your deduction ; the remark is true,
but with a certain reservation, viz., that the philosophy
which renders a poet less popular, must be the phiosophy
ofleaming, not of wisdom. Wherever it consists in the
knowledge of the plainer springs of the heart, and not
in abstruse inquiry into its metaphysical and hidden sub-
tleties, it necessarily increases the popularity of the poem ;
because, instead of being limited to the few, it comes
home to every one. Thus, it is the philosophy of Shak-
speare, which puts him into every one's hands and hearts
— while that of Lucretius, wonderful poet as he is, makes
US often throw down the book because it fatigues us with
the scholar. Philosophy, therefore, only sins in poetry.
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 125
when, in the severe garb of learning, it becomes harsh
and crabbed,' and not 'musical as is Apollo's lute.'"
"Alas ! " said I, " how much more diflBcult than of yore
education is become ! formerly, it had only one object —
to acquire learning ; and now, we have not only to acquire
it, but to know what to do with it when we have — nay,
there are not a few cases where the very perfection of
learning will be to appear ignorant."
''Perhaps," said Glanville, "the very perfection of
imsdom may consist in retaining actual ignorance. Where
was there ever the individual who, after consuming years,
life, health, in the pursuit of science, rested satisfied with
its success, or rewarded by its triumph ? Common sense
tells us that the best method of employing life is to enjoy
it. Common sense tells us, also, .the ordinary means of
this enjoyment ; health, competence, and the indulgence,
but the moderate indulgence, of our passions. What
have these to do with science ? "
"I might tell you," replied Vincent, "that I myself
have been no idle nor inactive seeker after the hidden
treasures of mind ; and that, from my own experience, I
could speak of pleasure, pride, complacency, in the pur-
suit, that were no inconsiderable augmenters of my stock
of enjoyment ; but I have the candor to confess, also, that
I have known disappointment, mortification, despondency
of mind, and infirmity of body, that did more than balance
the account. The fact is, in my opinion, that the indi-
vidual is a sufferer for his toils, but then the mass is
benefited by his success. It is we who reap, in idle
11*
126 PELHAM; OB.
gratification, what the husbandman has sown in the bitter-
ness of labor. Genius did not save Milton from poverty
and blindness — nor Tasso from the mad-house — nor Ga-
lileo from the inquisition ; they were the sufferers, but
posterity the gainers. The literary empire reverses the
political ; it is not the many made for one — it is the
one made for many. Wisdom and Genius must have
their martyrs as well as Keligion, and with the same
results, viz., semen ecclesioB est sanguis martyrorum.
And this reflection must console us for their misfortunes,
for, perhaps, it was sufficient to console them. In the
midst of the most affecting passage in the most wonder-
ful work, perhaps, ever produced, for the mixture of
universal thought with individual interest — I mean the
last two cantos of Childe Harold — the poet warms from
himself at his hopes of being remembered
* — — In his line
*With his land's language. *-
And who can read the noble and heart-speaking apology
of Algernon Sydney, without entering into his consola-
tion no less than his misfortunes ? Speaking of the law
being turned into a snare instead of a protection, and
instancing its uncertainty and danger in the times of
Richard the Second, he says, ' God only knows what
will be the issue of the like practices in these our days ;
perhaps He will in his mercy speedily visit his afflicted
people ; I die in the faith thai he will do U, though J
kitow not the time or ways.^^^
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN 121
*' I love," said Clarendon, " the enthusiasm which placei
comfort in so noble a source ; but, is vanity, think you, a
less powerful agent than philanthropy 7 Is it not the
desire of shining before men that prompts us to whatever
may effect it 7 and if it can create^ can it not also 8up»
port f I mean, that if you allow that to shine, to dazzle,
to enjoy praise, is no ordinary incentive to the com-
mencement of great works, the conviction of future success
for this desire becomes no inconsiderable reward. Grant,
for instance, that this desire produced the 'Paradise
Lost,' and you will not deny that it might also support
the poet through his misfortunes. Do you think that he
thought rather of the pleasure hi& work should afford to
posterity, than of the praises posterity should extend to
his work 7 Had not Cicero left us such frank confessions
of himself, how patriotic, how philanthropic we should
have esteemed him I Now we know both his motive and
meed was vanity, may we not extend the knowledge of
human nature which we have gained in this instance by
applying it to others 7 For my part, I should be loth to
inquire how large a quantum of vanity mingled with the
haughty patriotism of Sydney, or the unconquered soul
of Cato."
Glanville bowed his head in approval
" But," observed I, ironically, " why be so uncharitable
to this poor and persecuted principle, since none of you
deny the good and great actions it effects ; why stigmatize
vanity as a vice, when it creates, or, at least, participates
\Df so many virtues 7 I wonder the ancients did not erect
128 pelham; OR,
■
the choicest of their temples to its worship. As for me,
I shall henceforth only speak of it as the primum mobile
of whatever we venerate and admire, and shall think it
the highest compliment I can pay to a man, to tell him
he is eminently vainf^'
" I incline to yonr opinion," cried Vincent, laughing.
•* The reason we dislike vanity in others, is because it is
perpetually hurting our own. Of all passions (if for the
moment I may call it such) it is the most indiscreet ; it is
for ever blabbing out its own secrets. If it would but
keep its counsel, it would be as graciously received in
society, as any other well-dressed and well-bred intruder
of quality. Its garrulity makes it despised. But in truth
it must be clear, that vanity in itself is neither a vice nor
a virtue, any more than this knife, in itself, is dangerous
or useful ; the person who employs gives it its qualities :
thus, for instance, a great mind desires to shine, or is vain,
in great actions ; a frivolous one, in frivolities ; and so
on through the varieties of the human intellect. But I
cannot agree with Mr. Clarendon that my admiration of
Algernon Sydney (Cato I never did admire) would be at
all lessened by the discovery, that his resistance to tyran-
ny in a great measure originated in vanity, or that the
same vanity consoled him, when he fell a victim to that .
resistance; for what does it prove but this, that, among
the various feelings of his soul, indignation at oppression
(so common to all men) — enthusiasm for liberty, (so
predominant in him) — the love of benefiting others
the noble pride of being, in death, consistent with him<
ADVENTURES OT A GENTLEMAN. 1!I9
self; among all these feelings, among a crowd of others
equally honorable and pare — there was also one, and
perhaps no inconsiderable feeling, of desire that his life
and death shoald be hereafter appreciated justly 7 Con-
tempt of fame is the contempt of virtue. Never consider
that vanity an offence which limits itself to wishing for
the praise of good men for good actions ; * next to our
own esteem,' says the best of the Roman philosophers,
'it is a virtue to desire the esteem of others.' "
"By your emphasis on the word esteem," said Lady
Roseville, " I suppose you attach some peculiar importance*
to the word ? "
" I do," answered Vincent. " I use it in contra-distinc-
tion to admiration. We may covet general admiration
for a bad action — (for many bad actions have the din-
quanif which passes for real gold) — but one can expect
general esteem only for a good one."
"From this distinction," said Ellen, modestly, "'may
we not draw an inference, which will greatly help us in
our consideration of vanity ? may we not deem that vanity
which desires only the esteem of others, to be invariably
a virtue, and that which only longs for admiration to be
frequently a vice ? "
" We may admit your inference," said Vincent ; " and
before I leave this' question, I cannot help reoQaiking
upon the folly of the superficial, who imagine, by studying
human motivtes, hat philosophers wish to depreciate human
actions. To direct our admiration to a proper point, is
surely not to destroy it: yet how angry inconsiderate
130 pelham; ob,
enthusiasts are, when we assign real, in the place of exag*
gerated feelings I Thus the advocates for the doctrine of
utility — the most benevolent, because the most indulgent,
of all philosophies — are branded with the epithets of
selfish and interested ; decriers of moral excellence, and
disbelievers in generous actions. Vice has no friend like
the prejudices which call themselves virtue. Le pretexte
ordinaire de ceux qui font le malheur des atUres est
quHls veulent leur bien,"*
My eyes were accidentally fixed on Glanville as Vincent
ceased ; he looked up, and colored faintly as he met my
look; but he did not withdraw his own — keenly and
steadily we gazed upon each other, till Ellen, turning
round suddenly, remarked the unwonted meaning of our
looks, and placed her hand in her brother's^ with a sort
of fear.
It was late ; he rose to withdraw, and passing me, said
in a Tow tone, "A little while, and you shall know all.''
I made no answer — he left the room with Ellen.
" Lady Roseville has had but a dull evening, I fear,
with our stupid saws and ancient instances," said Vincent.
The eyes of the person he addressed were fixed upon the
aoor; I was standing close by her, and, as the words
struck her ear, she turned abruptly ; — a tear fell upon .
my hand — she perceived it, and, though I would not
look upon her face, I saw that her very neck blushed ;
but she, like me, if she gave way to feeling, had learned
too deep a lesson from the world, not readily to resume
* ** The ordinary pretext of those who make the misery of otherg
is, that they wish their good."
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN.. 13\
her self-command ; she answered Vincent rallyingly, upon
his bad compliment to us, and received our adieus with
all her customary grace, and more than her customary
gaiety.
CHAPTER LXIX.
Ah ! Sir, had I but bestowed half the pains in learning a trade,
that I have in learning to be a scoundrel, I might have been a rich
man at this day ; but, rogue as I am, still I may be your friend,
and that perhaps, when you least expect it. — Vicar of Wakefield.
What with the anxiety and uncertainty of my political
prospects, the continued whirlpool in which I lived, and
above all, the unpropitious state of my belle passion, my
health gave way; my appetite forsook me — ^"my sleep
failed me — I lost my good looks, and my mother declared,
that I should have no chance with an heiress ; all these
circumstancesD together were not without their weight.
So I set out one morning to Hampton Court, for the
benefit of the country air.
It is by no means an unpleasant thing to turn one's
ba6k upon the great city in the height of its festivities.
Misanthropy is a charming feeling for a short time, and
one inhales the country, and animadverts on the town,
with the most melancholy satisfaction in the world. I
sat myself down at a pretty little cottage, a mile out of
the town. From the window of my drawing-room I re-
velled in the luxurious contemplation of three pigs, one
132 FELHAM; OR,
COW, and a straw yard ; and I could get to the Thames
in a walk of five minutes, by a short cut through a lime-
kiln. Such pleasing opportunities of enjoying the beauties
of nature, are not often to be met with : you may be sure,
therefore, that I made the most of them. I rose early,
walked before breakfast, for my health, and came back
with a most satisfactory headache, for my pains. I read
for just three hours, walked for two more, thought over
Abernethy, dyspepsia, and blue pills, till dinner ; and
absolutely forgot Lord Dawton, ambition, Guloseton,
epicurism — ay, all but — of course, reader, you know
whom I am about to except, — the ladye of my love.
One bright, laughing day, I threw down my book an
hour sooner than usual, and sallied out with a lightness
of foot and exhilaration of spirit, to which I had long
been a stranger. I had just sprung over a stile that led
into one of those green shady lanes, which make us feel
that the old poets who loved, and lived for nature, were
right in calling our island " the merry England " — when
I was startled by a short, quick bark, on one side of the
hedge. I turned sharply round; and, seated upon. the
sward, was a man, apparently of the pedlar profession ; a
large deal box was lying open before him ; a few articles
of linen, and female dress, were scattered round, and the
man himsdf appeared earnestly occupied in examining the
deeper recesses of his itinerant warehouse. A small
black terrier flew towards me with no friendly growl.
"Down," said I: "all strangers are not foes — though
the English generally think so."
ADVENTURES OP A GENTLEMAN. ISH
The man hastily looked up; perhaps he was struck
with the quaintness of my remonstrance to his canine
companion ; for, touching his hat, civilly, he said — " The
dog, Sir, is very quiet ; he only means to give me the
alarm by giving it to you ; for dogs seem to have no
despicable insight into human nature, and know-well that
the best of us may be taken by surprise."
"You are a moralist," said I, not a little astonished in
my turn by such an address frocQ such a person. "I could
not have expected to stumble upon a philosopher so easily.
Have you any wares in your box likely to suit me ? if so,
I should like to purchase of so moralizing a vender I "
" No, Sir," said the seeming pedlar, smiling, and yet
at the same time hurrying his goods into his box, and
carefully turning the key — "no, Sir, I am only a bearer
of other men's goods ; my morals are all that I can call
my own, and those I will sell you at your own price."
" You are candid, my friend," said I, " and your frank
ness, alone, would be inestimable in this age of deceit,
and country of hypocrisy.'*
"Ah, Sir I " said my new acquaintance, " I see already
that you are one of those persons who look to the dark
side of things ; for my part, I think the present age the
best that ever existed, and our own country the most
virtuous in Europe."
" I congratulate you, Mr. Optimist, on your opinions,"
quoth I ; " but your observation leads me to suppose,
that you are both an historian and a traveller: am I
right?'
II. — 12
134 PEL ham; OB,
"Why," answered the box-bearer, " I have dabbled a
little in books, and wandered not a little among men. I
am jast returned from Germany, and am now going to my
friends in London. I am charged with this box of goods :
Heaven send me the luck to deliver it safe 1 "
"Amen," said I ; " and with that prayer and this trifle,
I wish you a good morning."
" Thank you a thousand times. Sir, for both," replied
the man — " but do add to your favors by informing me
of the right road to the town of *■* * *."
" I am going in that direction myself: if you ehoose to
accompany me part of the way, I can ensure your not
missing the rest."
" Your honor is too good I " returned he of the box,
rising, and slinging his fardel across him — " it is but
seldom that a gentleman of your rank will condescend to
walk three paces with one of mine. You smile. Sir ;
perhaps you think I should not class myself among gen-
tlemen ; and yet I have as good a right to the name as
most of the set. I belong to no trade — I follow no calling :
I rove where I list, and rest where I please : in short, I
know no occupation but my indolence, and no law but my
will. Now, Sir, may I not call myself a gentleman ? "
" Of a surety ! " quoth I. " You seem to me to hold
a middle rank between a half-pay captain and the king of
the gipsies."
" You have hit it. Sir," rejoined my companion, with a
Blight laugh. He was now by my side, and as we walked
on, I had leisure more minutely to examine him. He waa
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 13?>
a middle-sized, and rather athletic man, apparently aboai:
the age of thirty-eight. He was attired in a dark-blue
frock coat, which was neither shabby nor new, but ill made,
and much too large and long for its present possessor ;
beneath this was a faded velvet waistcoat, that had former
ly, like the Persian ambassador's tunic, "blushed with
crimson, and blazed with gold ; " but which might nqw
have been advantageously exchanged in Monmoutk-street
for the lawful sum of two shillings and ninepence ; under
this was an inner vest of the cashmere shawl pattern,
which seemed much too new for the rest of the dress.
Though his shirt was of a very unwashed hue, I remurked
with some^suspicion, that it was of a very respectable fine-
ness ; and a pin, which might be paste, or could be dia-
mond, peeped below a tattered and dingy black* kid stock,
like a gipsy's eye beneath her hair.
His trowsers were of a light grey, and the justice of
Providence, or of the tailor, avenged itself upon them, for
the prodigal length bestowed upon their ill-assorted com-
panion, the coat ; for they were much too tight for the
muscular limbs. they concealed, and, rising far above the
ankle, exhibited the whole of a thick Wellington boot,
which was the very picture of Italy upon the map.
The face of the man was common-place and ordinary ;
one sees a hundred such, every day, in Fleet-street or on
the 'Change ; the features were small, irregular, and some-
what flat : yet when you looked twice upon the counte-
nance, there was something marked and singular in the
expression, which fully atoned for the commonness of the
2o
136 pelhah; or,
features. The right eye turned away from the left, in that
watchfal squint which seems constrncted on the same
considerate plan as those Irish gnns, made for shooting
round a corner ; his eye-brows were large and shaggy, and
greatly resembled bramble bushes, in whicn his fox-like
eyes had taken refuge. Round these Tulpine retreats was
a labyrinthean maze of those wrinkles, vulgarly called
crow's-feet ; deep, intricate, and intersected^ they seemed
for all the world like the web of a Chancery suit. Singular
enough, the rest of the countenance was perfectly smooth
and unindented ; even the lines from the nostril to the
comers of the mouth, usually so deeply traced in men of
his age, were scarcely more apparent than jo a boy of
eighteen.
His smile was frank — his voice clear and hearty — his
address open, and much superior to his apparent rank of
life, claiming somewhat of equality, yet conceding a great
deal of respect ; but, notwithstanding all these certainly
favorable points, there was a sly and cunning expression
in his perverse and vigilant eye and all the wrinkled
demesnes in its vicinity, that made m6 mistrust even while
I liked my companion ; perhaps, indeed, he was too frank,
too familiar, too d4gag6, to be quite natural. Your honest
men may soon buy reserve by experience. Rogues are
communicative and open, because confidence and openness
costs them nothing. To finish the description of my new
acquaintance, I should observe that there was something
in his countenance, which struck me as not wholly nn-
familiar \ it was one of those which we have not^ in all
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 13*
human probability, seen before, and yet, which (perhaps,
from their very commonness) we imagine we have encoun-
tered a hundred times.
We walked on briskly, notwithstanding the warmth o^
the day ; in fact, the air was so pure, the grass so green,
the laughing noon-day so full of the hum, the motion, and
the life of creation, that the feeling produced was rathef
that of freshness and invigoration than of languor and
heat.
" We have a beautiful country, Sir," said my hero of
the box. '' It is like walking through a garden, after the
more sterile and sullen features of the Continent. A pure
mind, Sir, loves the country ; for my part, I am always
disposed to burst out in thanksgiving to Providence when
I behold its works, and like the valleys in the psalm, I
am ready to laugh and sing."
" An enthusiast," said I, '' as well as a philosopher I
perhaps (and I believed it likely), I have the honor of
addressing a poet also."
"Why, Sir," replied the man, " I have made verses in
my life ; in short, there is little I have not done, for I
was always a lover of variety ; but, perhaps, your honor
will let me return the suspicion. Are you not a favorite
of the muse ? "
"I cannot say that I am," said I. "I value myself
only on my common sense — the very antipodes to genius,
you know, according to the orthodox belief."
" Common sense I " repeated my companion, with a
idngular and meaning smile, and a twinkle with bisi left
12*
138 pelham; or,
eye. "Common sense I Ah, that is not mj forte ^ Sir.
You, I dare say, are one of those gentlemen whom it is
very difficult to take in, either passively or actively, by
appearance, or in act? For my part, I have been a
dupe all my life — a child might cheat me! I am the
most unsuspicious person in the world."
"Too candid by half," thought I. **The man is
certainly a rascal : but what is that to me ? I shall never
see him again : " and, true to my love of never losing
sight of an opportunity of ascertaining individual cha-
racter, I observed that I thought such an acquaintance
very valuable, especially if he were in trade ; it was a
pity, therefore, for my sake, that my companion had in-
formed me that he followed no calling.
" Why, Sir," said he, " I arrij occasionally, in employ-
ment ; my nominal profession is that of a broker. I buy
shawls and handkerchiefs of poor countesses, and retail
them to rich plebeians. I fit up new-married couples
with linen, at a more moderate rate than the shops, and
procure the bridegroom his Dresent of jewels, at forty per
cent, less than the jewellers ; nay, I am as friendly to an
intrigue as a marriage ; and when I cannot sell my jewels,
I will my good offices. A gentleman so handsome as
your honor, may have an affair upon your hands : if so,
you may rely upon my secrecy and zeal. In short, I am
an innocent, good-natured fellow, who does harm to no
one for nothing, and good to every one for something."
"I admire your code," quoth I, "and whenever I want
a mediator between Yenus and myself, will employ yoa.
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN 139
Have you always followed your present idle profession,
or were you brought up to any other f "
" I was intended for a silversmith," answered my friend,
" but Providence willed it otherwise ; they taught me
from childhood to repeat the Lord's prayer; Heaven
heard me, and delivered me from temptation— there is,
indeed, something terribly seducing in the face of a silver
spoon I "
"Well," said I, "you are the honestest knave I ever
met, and one would trust you with one's purse for the
ingenuousness with which you own you would steal it.
Pray, think you it is probable that I have ever had the
happiness to meet you before ? I cannot help fancying
so — yet as I have never been in the watch-house, or
the Old Bailey, mj reason tells me that I must be mistaken."
" Not at all, Sir," returned my worthy : " I remember
you well, for I never saw a face like yours that I did not
remember. I had the honor of sipping some British
liquors in the same room with yourself, one evening ;
you were then in company with my friend Mr. Gordon."
" Ha I " said I, " 1 thank you for the hint. I now
remember well, by the same token, he told me that you
were the most ingenious gentleman in England ; and that
you had a happy propensity of mistaking other people's
possessions for your own. I congratulate myself upon
so desirable an acquaintance." —
My friend, who was indeed no other than Mr. Job
Jonson, smiled with his usual blaindness, and made me a
low bow of ack'!iowledgment before he resumed : —
140 PELHAM; OB,
«
" No doabt, Sir, Mr. Gordon informed you right. I
flatter myself few gentlemen understand better than my-
self, the art of appropriation; though I say it who
should not say it, I deserve the reputation I have ac-
quired. Sir, I have always had ill fortune to struggle
against, and have always remedied it by two virtues —
perseverance and ingenuity. To give you an idea of my
ill fortune, ^now that I have been taken up twenty-three
times on suspicion ; of my perseverance, know that twenty-
three times I have been taken up justly ; and of my
ingenuity, know that I have been twenty- three times
let off, because there was not a tittle of legal evidence
against me 1 "
" I venerate your talents, Mr. Jonson," replied I, " if
by the name of Jonson it pleaseth you to be called,
although, like the heathen deities, I presume that you
have many titles, whereof some are more grateful to your
ears than others."
"Nay," answered the man of two virtues — " I am never
ashamed of my name ; indeed, I have never done any
thing to disgrace me. I have never indulged in low
company, nor profligate debauchery; whatever I have
executed by way of profession, has been done in a su-
perior and artist-like manner ; not in the rude bungling
fashion of other adventurers. Moreover, I have always
had a taste for polite literature, and went once as an ap-
prentice to a publishing bookseller, for the sole purpose
of reading the new works before they came out In fine,
I have never neglected any opportunity of improving mv
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 141
mind ; and the worst that can be said against me is, that
I have remembered my catechism, and taken all possible
pains * to learn and labor truly, to get my living, and do
my duty in that state of life, to which it has pleased
Providence to call me.' "
" I have often heard," answered I, " that there is hoimr
among thieves ; I am happy to learn from you, that there
is also religion : your baptismal sponsors must be proud
of so diligent a godson.''
" They ought to be. Sir," replied Mr. Jonson, " for I
gave them the first specimens of my address : the story is
long, but if you ever give me an opportunity, I will
relate it."
" Thank you," said I ; " meanwhile I must wish you a
good morning ; your road now lies to the right. I return
you my best thanks for your condescension in accompany-
ing so undistinguished an individual as myself."
"Oh never mention it, your honor," rejoined Mr.
Jonson. " I am always too happy to walk with a gen-
tleman of your 'common sense.' Farewell, Sir; may we
meet again."
So saying, Mr. Jonson struck into his new road and
we parted. *
I went home, musing on my adventure, and delighted
with my adventurer. When I was about three paces from
the door of my home, I was accosted, in a most pitiful
* If any one should think this sketch from nature exaggerated.
I refer him to the ** Memoirs of James Hardy Yaux."
142 pelham; or,
tone, by a poor old beggar, apparently in the last extreme
of misery and disease. Notwithstanding my political
economy, I was moved into alms-giving by a spectacle so
wretched. I put my hand into my pocket, my purse was
gone ; and, on searching the other, lo — my handkerchief,
my pocket-book, and a gold locket, which had belonged
to Madame d'Anville, had vanished too.
One does not keep company with men of two virtues,
and receive compliments upon one's common sense, for
nothing !
The beggar still continued to importune me.
" Give him some food and half a crown," said I, to my
landlady. Two hours afterwards, she came up to me
— " Oh, Sir, my silver tea-pot — that villain the beggar ! "
A light flashed upon me : — "Ah, Mr. Job Jonson ! Mr.
Job Jonson 1 " cried I, in an indescribable rage ; " out
of my sight, woman 1 out of my sight I " I stopped short ;
my speech failed me. Never tell me that shame is the
companion of guilt — the sinful knave is never so ashamed
of himself as is the innocent fool who suffers by him
ADVSNTUREB OF A GENTLEMAN. 143
CHAPTER LXX;
Then must I plunge again into the crowd,
And follow all that peace disdains to seek. — Btbok.
In the quiet of my retreat I remained for eight days —
daring which time I never looked once at a newspaper
— imagine how great was my philosophy ! On the ninth,
I began to think it high time for me to hear from Dawton ;
and finding that I had eaten two rolls for breakfast, and
that certain untimely wrinkles began to assume a more
mitigated appearance, I bethought me once more of the
"Beauties of Babylon."
While I was in this kindly mood towards the great city
and its inhabitants, my landlady put two letters in my
hand — one was from my mother, the other from Guloseton.
I opened the latter first ; it ran thus —
"DrAR Pelham,
" I was very sorry to hear you had left town — and so
unexpectedly too. I obtained your address at Mivart's,
and hasten to avail myself of it. Pray come to town
immediately. I have received some chevreuil as a present,
and long for your opinion ; it is too nice to keep : for all
things nice were made but to grow bad when nicest : as
Moore, I believe, says of flowers, substituting sweet and
fleetest, for bad and nicest ; so, you see, you must come
without loss of time.
114 pelham; OB,
"But you, my friend — how can you possibly have
been spending your time ? I was kept awake all last night,
by thinking what you could have for dinner. Fish is out
of the question in the country ; chickens die of the pip
everywhere but in London : game is out of season ; it is
impossible to send to Giblett's for meat ; it is equally im-
possible to get it anywhere else ; and as for the only two
natural productions of the country, vegetables and eggs,
I need no extra ordinary penetration to be certain that
your cook cannot transmute the latter into an omelette
aux huUres, nor the former into Ugumes d la crSme,
" Thus you see, by a series of undeniable demonstra-
tions, you must absolutely be in a state of starvation. At
this thought, tears rush into my eyes : for Heaven's sake,
for my sake, for your own sake, but above all, for th^
sake of the chevreuil, hasten to London. I figure you
to myself in the last stage of atrophy — airy as a trifle,
thin as the ghost of a greyhound.
" I need say no more on the subject. I may rely on
your own discretion to procure me the immediate pleasure
of your company. Indeed, were I to dwell longer on your
melancholy situation, my feelings would overcome me. —
Mais revenons d nos movions : (a most pertinent phrase,
by the bye — oh I the French excel us in everything, from
the paramount science of cookery, to the little art of con-
versation.)
" You must tell me your candid, your unbiassed, your
deliberate opinion of chevreuil. For my part, I should
not wonder at the mythology of the northern heathen
ADVKNTUEKS OF A GENTLEMAN. 145
nations, which places hunting among the chief enjoyments
of their heaven, were chevreuil the object of their chase ;
•
but tiihil est omni parte beatum ; — it wants ya<, my dear
Pelham, it wants fat : nor do I see how to remedy this
defect; for were we by art to supply the fatf we should
deprive ourselves of the ^avor bestowed by nature ; and
this, my dear Pelham, was always my great argument for
liberty. Cooped, chained, and confined in cities, and
slavery, all things lose the fresh and generous tastes, which
•it is the peculiar blessing of freedom and the country to
afford.
" Tell me, my friend, what has been the late subject of
your reflections? My thoughts have dwelt, much and
seriously, on the * terra incognita,' the undiscovered tracts
in the pays culinairef which the profoundest investigators
have left untouched and unexplored in veal. But
more of this hereafter ; — the lightness of a letter is ill
Buited to the depths of philosophical research.
" Lord Dawton sounded me upon my votes yesterday.
•A thousand pities too,' said he, * that you never speak in
the House of Lords.' — ' Orator fit,' said I — * orators are
eulyject to apoplexy.*
"Adieu, my dear friend, for friend you are, if the philo-
sopher was right in defining true friendship to consist in
liking and disliking the same things. You hate parsnips
au naiurel — so do I ; you love pdtSs de foie gras, et
nioi aussi; — nous voild done les meilleurs amis du
monde!
"GULOSETEN."
IL— 13
146 pelham; OB,
So much for my friend, thought I — and now for mj
mother — opening the maternal epistle, which I herewith
transcribe : —
"My dsab Henbt,
"Lose no time in coming to town. Every day the
ministers are filling up the minor places, and it requires a
great stretch of recollection in a politician to remember
the absent. Mr. V- said yesterday, at a dinner party
where I was present, that Lord Dawton had promised
him the Borough of . Now you know, my dear
Henry, that was the very borough he promised to you :
you must see further into this. Lord Dawton is a good
sort of man enough, but refused once to fight a duel ;
therefore, if he has disregarded his honor in one instance,
he may do so in another : at all events, you have no time
to lose.
" The young Duke of gives a ball to-morrow
evening : Mrs. pays all the expenses, and I know
for a certainty that she will marry him in a week ; this as
yet is a secret. There will* be a great mixture, but the
ball will be worth going to. I have a card for you.
" Lady Huffemall and I think that we shall not patron-
Ee the future duchess ; but have not yet made up our
minds. Lady Roseville, however, speaks of the intended
match with great respect, and says that since we admit
convenancBf as the chief rule in matrimony, she never re-
members an instance in which it has been more consulted.
" There are to be several promotions in the peerage.
ADYSNTUBES OF A GENTLEMAN. 147
Lord 's friends wish to give out that he will have a
dukedom ; mats fen doufe. However, he has well de-
served it ; for he not only gives the best dinners in town,
but the best account of them in the Morning Post after**
wards ; which I think is very properly upholding the
dignity of our order.
" I hope most earnestly that you do not (in your country
retreat) neglect your health ; nor, I may add, your mind ;
and that you take an opportunity every other day of
practising waltzing, which you can very well do with the
help of an arm-chair. I would send you down (did I not
expect you here so soon) Lord Mount B 's * Musical
Reminiscences ;' not only because it is a very entertaining
book, but because I wish you to pay much greater atten-
tion to music than you seem inclined to do. * * * * who
is never very refined in his bons mots,, says that Lord M.
seems to have considered the world a concert, in which
the best performer plays first fiddle. It is, indeed, quite
delightful to see the veneration our musical friend has for
the orchestra and its occupants. I wish to heaven, my
dear Henry, he could instil into you a little of his ardor.
I am quite mortified at times by your ignorance of tunes
and operas : nothing tells better in conversation than a
knowledge of music, as you will one day or other discover.
" God bless you, my dearest Henry. Fully expecting
you, I have sent to engage your former rooms at Mivart's ;
do not let me be disappointed.
" Yours, &c.
'*F.P."
148 pelham; ob,
I read the above letter twice over, and felt my cbeek
glow and mj heart swell as I perused the passage relative
to Lord Dawton and the borough. The new minister
had certainly, for some weeks since, been playing a doable
part with me : it would long ago have been easy to procure
me a subordinate situation — still easier to place me in
parliament ; yet he had contented himself with doubtful
promises and idle civilities. What, however, seemed to
me most unaccountable was, his motive in breaking or
paltering with his engagement ; he knew that I had served
him and his party better than half his corps : he pro-
fessed, not only to me, but to society, the highest opinian
of my abilities, knowledge, and applieation j he saw, con-
sequently, how serviceable I could be as fr friend ; and,
from the same qualities, joined to the rant of my birth
and connections, and the high and resentful temper of my
mind, he might readily augur that I could be equally
influential as a foe.
With this reflection, I stilled the beating of my heart,
and the fever of my pulse. I crushed the obnoxious letter
in my hand, walked thrice up and down the room, paused
at the bell — rang it violently — ordered post-horses
instantly, and in less than an hour was on the road to
London.
How different is the human mind, according to the
difference of place ! In our passions, as in our creeds,
we are the mere dependants of geographical situation.
Nay, the trifling variation of a single mile will revolution-
ize the whole tides and ^o . ents of our hearts. The man
AD\rENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 149
who is meek, generoas, beneyolent, and kind, in the couij-
try, enters the scene of contest, and becomes forthwith
fiery or mean, selfish or stern, just as if the virtues were
only for solitude, and the vices for the city. I have ill
expressed the above reflection ; nHmporte — so much the
better shall I explain my feelings at the time I speak of
— for I was then too eager and engrossed to attend to
the niceties of words. On my arrival at Mivart's, I
scarcely allowed myself time to change my dress before
I set out to Lord Dawton. He shall afford me an ex-
planation, I thought, or a recompense, or a revenge, I
knocked at the door — the minister was out. '^ Give him
this card," said I to the porter, " and say I shall call to-
morrow at three."
I walked to Brookes's — there I met Mr. V . My
acquaintance with him was small ; but he was a man of
talent, and, what was more to my purpose, of open man-
ners. I went up to him, and we entered into conversation
"Is it true," said I, "that I am to congratulate you upon
the certainty of your return for Lord Dawton's borough
of ?"
" I believe so," replied V . " Lord Dawton engaged
it to me last week, and Mr. H ^ the present member,
has accepted the Chiltern Hundreds. You know all our
family supported Lord Dawton warmly in the present
crisis and my return for this borough was materially in-
sisted upon. Such things are, you see, Mr. Pelham, even
in these virtuous days of parliamentary purity."
13*
.60 pelham; or,
"True," said I, dissembling my chagrin, "yourself and
Dawton have made an admirable exchange. Think yoa
the ministry can be said to be fairly seated ? "
*' By no means ; everything depends upon the motion
of , brought on next week. Dawton looks to that as
to the decisive battle for this session."
Lord Gavelton now joined us, and I sauntered away
with the utmost (seeming) indifference. At the top of
!St. James's -street, Lady Roseville's well-known carriage
passed me — she stopped for a moment. "We shall
meet at the Duke of 's to-night," said she, " shall
we not ? "
" If you go — certainly," I replied.
I went home to my solitary apartment ; and if I suffered
somewhat of the torments of baffled hope and foiled am-
bition, the pang is not for the spectator. My lighter
moments are for the world — my deeper for myself; and,
like the Spartan boy, I would keep even in the pangs of
death, a mantle over the teeth and fangs which were fa»^
tening upon my breast.
ADTENTUBES OS A OXNTLEHAM. 15!
CHAPTER LXXI.
Nocet empta dolore volnptae. — Ovid.
The first person I saw at the Duke of 's was Mr.
Mivart — he officiated as geDtleman usher: the second
was my mother — she was, as nsaal, surrounded by men,
"the shades of heroes that have been," remnants of a
former day, when the feet of the young and fair Lady
Frances were as light as her head, and she might have
rivalled, in the science de la dansBf even the graceful
Duchess of B d. Over the dandies of her own time
she still preserved her ancient empire ; and it was amusing
enough to hear the address of the ci-devant jeuneshommes
who continued, through habit, the compliments begun
thirty years since through admiration.
My mother was, indeed, what the world calls a very
charming, agreeable woman. Few persons were more
popular in society : her manners were perfection — her
smile enchantment : she lived, moved, breathed, only for
the world, and the world was not ungrateful for the con-
stancy of her devotion. Yet, if her letters have given
my readers any idea of her character, they will perceive
that the very desire of supremacy in ton, gave (Heaven
forgive my filial impiety 1) a sort of demi-vulgarism to
her ideas ; for they who live wholly for the opinion of
2h
152 pelham; or,
others, always want that self-dignity which alone confers
a high cast npon the sentiments ; and the most really
unexceptionable in mode, are frequently the least gen-
uinely patrician in mind.
I joined the maternal party, and Lady Frances soon
took an opportunity of whispering, "You are looking
yery well, and very handsome ; I declare you are not
unlike me, especially about the eyes. I have just heard
that Miss Glanville will be a great heiress, for poor Sir
Keginald cannot liye much longer. She is here to-night ]
pray do not lose the opportunity."
My cheek burned like fire at this speech, and my
mother, quietly observing that I had a beautiful color,
and ought therefore immediately to find out Miss Glan-
ville, lest it should vanish by the least delay, turned from
me to speak of a public breakfast about shortly to be
given. I passed into the dancing-room ; there I found
Vincent; he was in unusually good spirits.
**Well," said he, with a sneer, "you have not takeo
your seat yet. I suppose Lord Dawton's representative,
whose place you are to supply, is like Theseus ; sedet in
ceiernumque sedebit. A thousand pities you can't come
!n before next week; we shall then have fiery motions
in the Lower Souse, as the astrologers say."
I smiled. **Ah mon cherP^ said I, "Sparta hatn
many a worthier son than me 1 Meanwhile, how get on
the noble Lords Lesborongh and Lincoln f * sure such a
pair were never seen, so justly formed to meet by nature I ' "
" Pooh 1 " said Vincent, coarsely, " they shall get o>«
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 153
well enough, before you get in. Look to yourself, and
remember that 'Caesar plays the ingrate.'"
Vincent turned away ; my eyes were riveted on the
ground ; the beautiful Lady passed by me : " What,
you in a reverie ? " said she, laughing ; " our very host
will turn thoughtful next I "
"Nay," said I, "in your absence would you have me
glad ? However, if Moore's mythology be true — Beauty
loves Folly the better for borrowing something from
Reason ; but, come, this is a place not for the grave, but
the giddy. Let us join the waltzers."
"I am engaged."
" I know it 1 Do you think I would dance with any
woman who was not engaged? — there would be no
triumph to one's vanity in that case. Aliens, you must
prefer me to an engagement ; " and so saying, I led off
my prize.
Her intended partner was Mr. V ; just as we had
joined the dancers, he spied us out, and approached with
his long, serious, respectful face : the music struck up,
and the next moment poor V was very nearly struck
down. Fraught with the most political spite, I whirled
up against him ; apologized with my blandest smile, and
left him wiping his mouth, and rubbing his shoulder, the
most forlorn picture of Hope in adversity, that can pos
siblj be conceived.
1 soon grew weary of my partner, and, leaving her to
fate, rambled into another room. There, seated alone,
was Lady Boseville. I placed myself beside her ; there
154 pelham; or,
was a sort of freemasonrj between her and myself ; each
knew something more of the other than the world did,
and read his or her heart, by other signs than words. I
soon saw that she was in no mirthful mood : so mnch the
better — she was the fitter companion for a baffled aspirant
like me.
The room we were in was almost deserted, and finding
onrselves uninterrupted, the stream of our conversation
flowed into sentiment.
" How little," said Lady Roseville, " can the crowd
know of the individuals who compose it I As the most
opposite colors may be blended into one, and so lose their
individual hues, and be classed under a single name, so
every one here will go home, and speak of the *gay
scene, ^ without thinking for a moment, how many breaking
hearts may have composed it."
"I have often thought," said I, "how harsh we are
in our judgments of others — how often we accuse those
persons of being worldly, who merely seem so to the
world. Who, for instance, that saw you in your brightest
moments, would ever suppose that you could make the
confession you have just made ? "
'< I would not make such a confession to many beside
yourself," answered Lady Roseville. "Nay, you need
not thank me. I am some years older than you ; I have
lived longer in the world ; I have seen much of its various
characters ; and my experience has taught me to penetrate
and prize a character like yours. While you seem frivolous
to the superficial, I know you to have- a mind not only
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 155
capable of the most solid and important affairs, bat
habituated by reflection to consider them. Yon appear
effeminate, I know that none are more daring — indolent,
none are more actively ambitions — utterly selfish, and I
know that no earthly interest conld bribe yon into mean-
ness or injustice — no, nor even into a venial dereliction
of principle. It is from this estimate of your character,
that I am frank and open to yo7. Besides, I recognize
something in the careful pride with which you conceal
your higher and deeper feelings, resembling the strongest
actuating principle in my own mind. All this interests
me warmly in your fate ; may it be as bright as my pre-
sentiments forebode I "
I looked into the beautiful face of the speaker as she
concluded ; perhaps, at that solitary moment, my heart
was unfaithful to Ellen ; but the infidelity passed away
like the breath from the mirror. Coxcomb as I was, I
knew well how passionless was the interest expressed for
me. Rover as I had been, I knew also, how pure may
be the friendship of a woman, — proinded she laves
another/
I thanked Lady Roseville, warmly, for her opinion.
" Perhaps," I added, " dared I solicit your advice, you
would not find me wholly undeserving of your esteem."
"My advice," answered Lady Roseville, "would be,
inii^d, worse than useless, were it not regulated by a
certain knowledge which, perhaps, you do not possess.
You seem surprised. JEh Men ; listen to me — are you
not in no small de/jree I'U with Lord Dawton f — do yoo
t56 PELHAM; OB,
not expect something from him worthy of yonr rank and
merit ? "
"You do, indeed, surprise me," said I. "However
close my connection with Lord Dawton may be, I thought
It much more secret than it appears to be. However, I
own that I have a right to expect from Lord Dawton,
not, perhaps, a recompense of service, but, at least, a
fulfilment of promises. , In this expectation I begin to
believe I shall be deceived."
" You will I " answered Lady Roseville. " Bend your
head lower — the walls have ears. You have a friend,
an unwearied and earnest friend, with those now in power ;
directly he heard that Mr. V was promised the
borough, which he knew had been long engaged to yon,
he went straight to Lord Dawton. He found him with
Lord Clandonald: however, he opened the matter im-
mediately. He spoke with great warmth of your claims
— he did more — he incorporated them with his own,
which are of no mean order, and asked no other recom-
pense for himself than the fulfilment of a long-made
promise to you. Dawton was greatly confused, and Lord
Clandonald replied, for him, that certainly there was no
denying your talents — that they were very great — that
you had, unquestionably, been of much service to their
party, and that, consequently, it must be politic to attach
you to their interests; but that there was a certain Jiert^,
and assumption, and he might say (mark the climax)
independence about you, which could not but be highly
displeasing in one so young ; moreover, that it was im«^
ADVENTURES OP A Q-£ N T LE xM A N. 157
possible to trust to you — that yoc pledged yourself to
no party — that you spoke only of conditions and terms
— that you treated the proposal of placing you in Par-
liament rather as a matter of favor on your part than on
Lord Dawton's — and, in a word, that there was no
relying upon you. Lord Dawton then took courage, and
chimed in, with a long panegyric on V , and a long
account of what was due to him, and to the zeal of his
family : adding, that, in a crisis like this, it was absolutely
necessary to engage a certain rather than a doubtful and
undecided support ; that, for his part, if he placed you in
Parliament, he thought you quite as likely to prove a foe
as a friend ; that owing to the marriage of your uncles
your expectations were by no means commensurate with
your presumption, and that the same talents which made
your claims to favor as an ally, created also no small
danger in placing you in any situation where you could
become hurtful as an enemy. All this, and much more
to the same purpose, was strenuously insisted upon by the
worthy pair; and your friend was obliged to take his
leave, perfectly convinced that, unless you assumed a more
complaisant bearing, or gave a more decided pledge, to
the new minister, it was hopeless for you to expect any*
thing from him, at least for the present The fact is,
he stands too much in awe of you, and would rather keep
you out of the House than contribute an iota towards
obtaining you a seat Upon all this you may rely as
certain."
"1 thank you from my heart," said I warmly, seizin^^.
11. — U
I6S
pslham: or.
and picssing Lady Boseville's band. " Yon tell me what
I have long suspected ; I am now upon my guard, and
tlicj shall find that I can o/fend as well as defend. But
it is no time for me to boast ; oblige me bj informing
me of the name of mj unknown friend ; I little thought
there was a being in the world who would stir three steps
for Henry Pelham."
" That ffiend," replied Lady Roseville, with a faltering
voice and a glowing cheek, ** was Sir Reginald Glanville."
" What I " cried I, '* repeat the name to me again, or
— " I paused, and recovered myself. "Sir Reginald
Glanville," I resumed haughtily, "is too gracious to
enter into my affairs. I must be strangely altered if I
need the officious zeal of any intermeddler to redress my
wrongs."
" Nay, Mr. Pelham," said the countess, hastily, "you
do Glanville — you do yourself injustice. For him, there
never passes a day in which he does not mention you with
the highest encomiums and the most affectionate regard.
He says of late, that you have altered towards him, but
that he is not surprised at the change — he never mentions
the cause ; if I am not intruding, suffer me to inquire into
it ; perhaps (oh I how happy it would make me) I may be
able to reconcile you ; if yon knew — if you could but
guess half of the noble and lofty character of Reginald
Glanville, you would suffer no petty difference to divide
you."
"It is no petti/ difference," said I, rising, "nor am I
permitted to mention the cause. Meanwhile, may God
ADVENTURES OP A GENTLEMAN. 160
bless 70a, dearest Lady Boseville, and preserve that kind
and generous heart from worse pangs than those of dis-
appointed ambition, or betrayed trust."
Lady Roseville looked down — her bosom heaved vi-
olently ; she felt the meaning of my words. I left her, and
returned home.
CHAPTER LXXII.
Good Mr. Knave giye me my due,
I like a tart as well as you;
But I would starye on good roast beef,
Ere I would look so like a thief.— 7%^ Queen of HearU
Nunc vino pellite curas :
Cras ingens iterabimus SBquor. — Hoe.
The next morning I received a note from Guloseton,
asking me to dine with him at eight, to meet his cAeu-
reuiL J. sent back an answer in the aflSrmative, and then
gave myself wholly up to considering what was the best
line of conduct to pursue with regard to Lord Dawton.
"It would be pleasant enough," said Anger, "to go to
him, to ask him boldly for the borough so often pledged
to you, and, in case of his refusal, to confront, to taunt,
and to break with him." " True," replied that more homely
and less stage-effect arguer, which we term Knowledge
of the World ; " but this would be neither useful nor dig-
oified — common sense never quarrels with any one. Call
160 PELHAM; OB,
upon Lord Dawton, if yoa will — ask him for his promise,
with your second-best smile, and receive his ezcnses with
your very best. Then do as you please — break with him
or not — you can do either with grace and quiet; never
make a scene about anything — reproach and anger always
do make a scene." ''Very true," said I, in answer to the
latter suggestion — and having made up my mind, I re-
paired a quarter before three to Lord Dawton's house.
"Ah, Pclham," said the little minister, ** delighted to
see you look so much the better from the country air ;
you will stay in town now, I hope, till the end of the
season ? "
''Certainly, Lord Dawton, or, at all events, till the
prorogation of Parliament ; how, indeed, could I do other-
wise, with your lordship's kind promise before my eyes ?
Mr. , the member for your borough of — — , has, I
believe, accepted the Chiltern Hundreds? I feel truly
obliged to you for so promptly fulfilling your promise to
me."
" Hem 1 my dear Pelham, hem I " murmured Lord
Dawton. I bent forward as if in the attitude of listening
respect, but really the more clearly to perceive, and closely
■
to enjoy, his confusion. He looked up and caught my
eye, and not being too much gratified with its involuntary
expression, he grew more and more embarrassed ; at last
he summoned courage.
" Why, my dear Sir," he said, " I did, it is true, promise
you that borough; but individual friendship must fre-
quently be sacrificed to the public good. All our party
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 16*
insisted upon returning Mr. V in place of the late
member : what could I do ? I mentioned your claims ;
they all, to a man, enlarged upon your rival's : to be sure
he is an older person, and his family is very powerful in
the Lower House : in short, you perceive, my dear Pelham
— that is, you are aware — you can feel for the delicacy
of my situation — one could not appear too eager for
one's own friends at first, and I wsks forced to concede."
Lord Dawton was now fairly delivered of his speech ;
it was therefore, only left me to congratulate him on his
offspring.
" My dear lord," I began, " you could not have pleased
me better : Mr. Y is a most estimable man, and I
would not, for the world, have had you suspected of placing
such a trifle as your own honor — that is to say — your
promise to me, before the commands — that is to say, the
interests — of your party ; but no more of this now. Was
your lordship at the Duke of 's last night ? "
Dawton seized joyfully the opportunity of changing the
conversation, and we talked and laughed on indifferent
matters till I thought it time to withdraw ; this I did with
the most cordial appearance of regard and esteem ; nor
was it till I had fairly set my foot out of his door, that I
Buffered myself to indulge the " black bile " at my breast.
1 turned towards the Green Park, and was walking slowly
along the principal mall with my hand behind me, and
my eyes on the ground, when I heard my own name
uttered. On looking back, I perceived Lord Vincent on
horseback ; he stopped and conversed with me. In the
162 pelham; ob,
humor 1 was in with Lord Dawton, I received him with
greater warmth than I had done of late ; and he also,
being in a social mood, seemed so well satisfied with onr
rencontre, and my behayior, that he dismounted to walk
with me.
'* This park is a very different scene now," said Vincent,
" from what it was in the times of * The Merry Monarch ; *
yet it is still a spot much more to my taste than its more
gaudy and less classical brother of Hyde There is some-
thing pleasingly melancholy, in walking over places haunt-
ed by history ; for all of us live more in the past than the
present."
"And how exactly alike in all ages," said I, " men have
been 1 On the very spot we are on now, how many have
been actuated by the same feelings that now actuate us
— how many have made perhaps exactly the same remark
just made by you 1 It is this universal identity, which
forms our most powerful link with those that have beea
— there is a satisfaction in seeing how closely we resemble
the Agamemnons of gone times, and we take care to lose
none of it, by thinking how closely we also resemble the
Thersiteses."
" True," replied Vincent : " if wise and great men did
but know how little difference there is between them and
the foolish or the mean, they would not take such pains
to be wise and great ; to use the Chinese proverb, ' they
sacrifice a picture, to get possession of its ashes.' It is
almost a pity that the desire to advance should be so
necessary to onr being ; ambition is often a fine, but never
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 163
a felicitous feeling. Cjprian, in a beaatifal passage on
envy, calls it * the moth of the soul : ' but perhaps, even
that passion is less gnawing, less a ' tabes pectoris,^ than
ambition. You are surprised at my heat — the fact is, I
am enraged at thinking how much we forfeit, when we
look up only, and trample unconsciously, in the blindness
of our aspiration, on the affections which strew our path.
Now, you and I have been utterly estranged from each
other of late. Why ? — for any dispute — any disagree-
ment in private — any discovery of meanness — treachery,
un worthiness in the other ? No I merely because I dine
with Lord Lincoln, and you with Lord Dawton voild tout.
Well say the Jesuits, that they who live for the public
must renounce all private ties ; the very day we become
citizens, we are to cease to be men. Our privacy is like
Leo Decimus; directly it dies, all peace, comfort, joy, and
sociality are to die with it : and an iron age, ' barbara vis
et dira malorum omnium incommoda ' to succeed."
"It is a pity that we struck into different paths," said
I : "no pleasure would have been to me greater than
making our political interests the same ; but — "
"Perhaps there is no but," interrupted Vincent;
" perhaps, like the two knights in the hackneyed story,
we are only giving different names to the same shield,
because we view it on different sides ; let us also imitate
them in their reconciliation, as well as their quarrel, and
since we have already run our lances against each other,
be convinced of our error, and make up our difference."
I was silent ; indeed, I did not like to trust myself to
speak. Vincent continued: —
tM pelham; OR,
" I know," said he, " and it is in vain for you to concea
it, that you have been ill-used by Dawton. Mr. V is
my first-cousin ; he came to me the day after the borough
was given to him, and told me all that Clandonald and
Dawton had said to him at the time. Believe me, they
did not spare you; — the former you have grieviously
offended ; you know that he has quarrelled irremediably
with his son Dartmore, and he insists that you are the
friend and abettor of that ingenuous youth, in all his de-
baucheries and extravagance — tu ilium corrumpi sinis.
I tell you this without hesitation, for I know you are less
vain than ambitious, and I do not care about hurting you
in the one point, if I advance you in the other. As for
me, I own to you candidly and frankly, that there are no
pains I would spare to secure you to our party. Join us,
and you shall, as I have often said, be on the parliamen-
tary benches of our corps, without a moment of unnecessary
delay. More I cannot promise you, because I cannot
promise more to myself ; but from that instant your fortune,
if I augur aught aright from your ability, will be in your
hands. You shake your head — surely you must see that
our differences . are not vehement — it is a difference not
of measures, but men. There is but a verbal disagreement
between us ; and we must own the wisdom of the sentence
recorded in Aulus Gellius, that 'he is but a madman,
who splits the weight of things upon the hair-breadths
of words.' You laugh at the quaintness of the quotation ;
quaint proverbs are of the truest."
If my reader should think lightly of me, when I own
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 165
ihat I felt wavering and irresolute at the end of this
speech, let him for a moment place himself in mj situa ion
— let him feel indignant at the treachery, the injastice,
the ingratitude of one man ; and, at the very height of his
resentment, let him be soothed, flattered, courted, by the
offered friendship and favor of another. Let him per-
sonally despise the former, and esteem the latter ; and let
him, above all, be convinced, as well as persuaded, of the
trath of Vincent's hint, viz., that no sacrifice of principle,
nor of measures, was required — nothing but an alliance
against men, not measures. And who were those men ?
bound to me by a single tie — meriting from my gratitude
a single consideration ? No I the men, above all others,
who had offered me the greatest affront, and deserved from
me the smallest esteem.
But, however human feelings might induce me to waver^
I felt that it was not by them only I was to decide. 1
am not a man whose vices or virtues are regulated by th^
impulse and passion of the moment : if I am quick to act
I am habitually slow to deliberate. I turned to Vincent,
and pressed his hand : '' I dare not trust myself to answer
you now," said I ; " give me till to-morrow ; I shall then
have both considered and determined."
I did not wait for his reply. I sprang from him, turned
down the passage which leads to Pall Mall, and hastened
heme once more to commune with my own heart, and —
not to be still.
In these confessions I have made no scruple of owning
my errors and my foibles ; all that could occasion mirth
166 pelham; or,
or benefit to the reider were his own. I have kept a veil
over the darker and stormier emotions of my soul ; all
that could neither amuse nor instruct him are mine !
Hours passed on — it became time to dress — I rang
for Bedos — dressed as usual — great emotions interfere
little with the mechanical operations of life — and drove
to Guloseton's.
He was unusually entertaining ; the dinner too was un-
usually good ; but, thinking that I was sufficiently intimate
with my host not to be obliged to belie my feelings, I
remained distrait, absent, and dull.
" What is the matter with you, my friend ? " said the
good-natured epicure ; "you have neither applauded my
jokes, nor tasted my escallopes ; and your behavior has
trifled alike with my chevreuil and my feelings T " — The
proverb is right, in saying " Grief is communicative." I
confess that 1^ was eager to unbosom myself to one upon
whose confidence I could depend. Guloseton heard me with
great attention and interest — " Little," said he, kindly,
" little as I care for these matters myself, I can feel for
those who do : I wish I could serve you better than by
advice. However, you cannot, I imagine, hesitate to
accept Vincent's offer. What matters it whether you sit
on one bench or on another, so that yon do not sit in a
thorough draught — or dine at Lord Lincoln's, or Lord
Dawton's, so long as the cooks are equally gdod ? As
for Dawton, I always thought him a shuffling, mean fellow,
who buys his wines at the second price, and sells his ofiicea
^ ADVENTUEEB OF A GENTLEMAN. 167
at the first. Gome, my dear fellow, let as drink to hia
confusion."
So saying, Gnloseton filled my glass to the brim. He
had sympathized with me — I thought it, therefore, my
duty to sympathize with him ; nor did we part till the
eyes of the bon vivant saw more things in heaven ami
earth, than are dreamt of in the philosophy of the sober
CHAPTER LXXIII.
— Si ad honestatem nati sumus, ea aut sola expetenda est,
ant oerte omni pondere grayior est habenda qoam reliqua* omnia.
TULLT.
Cos. Bmtus, I do obserye you now of late:
I haye not from your eyes that gentleness
And show of loye as I was wont to haye. — Julius Ccuar.
I BOSS at my usual early hour ; sleep had tended to
calm, and, I hope, also, to better, my feelings. I had now
leisure to reflect, that I had not embraced my party from
any private or interested motive ; it was not, therefore,
from a private or interested motive that I was justified in
deserting it Our passions are terrible sophists I When
Vincent had told me, the day before, that it was from
men, not measures, that I was to change, and that such a
change could scarcely deserve the name, my heart adopted
the assertion, and fancied it into truth.
I now began to perceive the delusion ; were government
2i
168 PELHAM; OR,
as mechanically perfect as it has Dever yet been (but as
I trust it may yet be), it would signify little who were
the mere machines that regulated its springs : but in a
constitution like ours, the chief character of which —
pardon me, ye De Lolmeites — is its uncertainty ; where
men invariably make the measures square to the dimen-
sions of their own talent or desire ; and where, reversing
the maxim of the tailor, the measures so rarely make the
men ; it required no penetration to see how dangerous it
was to entrust to the aristocratic prejudice of Lincoln, or
the vehement imbecility of Lesborough, the execution of
the very same measures which might safely be committed
to the plain sense of Dawton, and, above all, to the great
and various talents of his coadjutors. But what made
the vital difference between the two parties was less in the
leaders than the body. In the Dawton faction, the best,
the purest, the wisest of the day were enrolled ; they took
upon themselves the origin of all the active measures, and
Lord Dawton was the mere channel through which those
measures flowed ; the plain, the unpretending, and some-
what feeble character of Lord Dawton 's mind, readily
conceded to the abler components of his party the author-
ity it was so desirable that they should exert In Vincent's
party, with the exception of himself, there was scarcely an
individual with the honesty requisite for loving the pro-
jects they affected to propose, or the talents that were
necessary for carrying them into effect, even were their
wishes sincere ; nor was either the haughty Lincoln, or
his noisy and overbearing companion, Lesborough, at
aDVBNtuees op a gentleman. 161>
All of a temper to suffer that quiet, yet powerful inter-
ference of others, to which Dawton unhesitatingly sub-
mitted.
I was the more resolved to do all possible justice to
Dawton's party, from the inclination I naturally had to
lean towards the other ; and' in all matters, where private)
pique or self-interest can possibly penetrate, it has ever
been the object of my ma/wrer consideration to direct my
particular attention to that side of the question which such
undue partisans are the least likely to espouse. While I
was gradually, but clearly, feeling my way to a decision, I
received the following note from Guloseton : —
'* I said nothing to you last night of what is now to be
the subject of my letter, lest you should suppose it arose
rather from the heat of an extempore convivality, than its
real source, viz., a sincere esteem for your mind, a sincere
ajQfection for your heart, and a sincere sympathy in your
resentment and your interest.
" They tell me that Lord Dawton's triumph or discom-
fiture rests entirely upon the success of the motion upon
, brought before the House of Commons, on the
. I care, you know, very little, for my own
part, which way this question is decided ; do not think,
therefore, that I make any sacrifice when I request you to
suffer me to follow your advice in the disposal of my four
votes. I imagine, of course, that you would wish them to
adopt the contrary side to Lord Dawton ; and upon re
ceiving a line from you to that effect, they shall be em-
powered to do 80
II. — 16
170 pelham; OB,
"Pray, oblige me also by taking the merit of thfa
measore upon yourself, and saying (wherever it may be
useful to you,) how entirely both the voters and their
influence are at your disposal. I trust we shall yet play
the Bel to this Dragon, and fell him from his high places.
" Pity me, my dear friend ; I dine out to-day, and feel
already, by an intuitive shudder, that the soup will be
cold and the sherry hot. Adieu.
"Ever your's,
"GULOSETON."
Now, then, my triumph, my vanity, and my revenge
might be fully gratified. I had before me a golden op-
portunity of displaying my own power, and of humbling
that of the minister. My heart swelled high at the thought.
Let it be forgiven me, if, for a single moment, my previous
calculations and morality vanished from my mind, and I
saw only the offer of Vincent, and the generosity of Gu-
loseton. But I checked .the risings of my heart, and
compelled my proud spirit to obedience.
I placed Guloseton's letter before me, and, as I read it
once more in order to reply to it, the disinterested kind-
ness and delicacy of one, whom I had long, in the injustice
of my thoughts, censured as selfish, came over me so
forcibly, and contrasted so deeply with the hollownesa
of friends more sounding, alike in their profession and
their creeds, that the tears rushed to my eyes.
A thousand misfortunes are less affecting than a single
kindness.
ADYENTUBES OP A GENTLEMAN. HI
I wrote, in answer, a warm and earnest letter of thankfi
for an offer, the kindness of which penetrated me- to th«
soul. I detailed at some length the reasons which induced
me to the decision I had taken ; I sketched also the nature
of the very important motion about to be brought before
the House, and deduced from that sketch the impossibility
of conscientiously opposing Lord Dawton's party in the
debate. I concluded with repeating the expressions my
gratitude suggested ; and, after declining all interference
with Lord Guloseton's votes, ventured to add, that had T
interfered, it would have been in support of Dawton ; n<. t
as a man, but a minister — not as an individual friend,
but a public servant.
I had just despatched this letter when Vincent entered ;
I acquainted him, though in the most respectful and
friendly terms, with my determination. He seemed greatly
disappointed, and endeavored to shake my resolution ;
finding this was in vain, he appeared at last satisfied, and
even affected with my reasons. When we parted, it was
with a promise, confirmed by both, that no public variance
should ever again alter our private opinion of each other.
When I was once more alone, and saw myself brought
back to the very foot of the ladder I had so far and so
fortunately climbed ; when I saw th|it, rejecting all the
overtures of my friends, I was left utterly solitary and
unaided among my foes — when I looked beyond, and
saw no faint loop-hole of hope, no single stepping-stone
on which to recommence my broken but unwearied career
— peihaps one oang of regret and repentance at mv
172 PELHAM; OB,
determinution came across me: bat there is something
marvelLouslj restorative in a good conscience, and one
soon learns to look with hope to the fnture, when one cab
feel justified in turning with pride to the past.
My horse qame to the door at my usual hour for
riding : with what gladness I sprang upon his back, felt
the free wind freshening over my fevered cheek, and turned
my rein towards the green lanes that border the great
city on its western side. I know few counsellors more
exhilarating than a spirited horse. I do not wonder
that the Roman emperor made a consul of his steed. On
horseback I always best feel my powers, and survey my
resources : on horseback I always originate my subtlest
schemes, and plan their ablest execution. Give me but
a light rein, and a free bound, and I am Cicero — Cato
— Caesar; dismount me, and I become a mere clod of
the earth which you condemn me to touch : fire, energy,
ethereality t have departed ; I am the soil without the sun
— the cask without the wine — the garments without the
man.
I returned homewards with increased spirits and collect-
ed thoughts : I urged my mind from my own situation,
and suffered it to rest upon what Lady Koseville had told
me of Reginald Glanville's interference in my behalf. That
extraordinary man still continued powerfully to excite
my interest; nor could I dwell, without some yearning
of the kindlier affections, upon his unsolicited, and, but
for Lady Roseville's communication, unknown exertions
in my cause. Although the officers of justice were stiU
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN 173
actively employed in the pursuit of Tyrrell's murderer,
and although the newspapers were still full of speculations
on their indifferent success, public curiosity had begun to
flag upon the inquiry. I had, once or twice, been in
Glanville's company when the murder was brought upon
the tapis, and narrowly examined his behavior upon a
•ubject which touched him so fearfully. I could not,
however, note any extraordinary confusion or change
in his countenance ; perhaps the pale cheek grew some-
what paler, the dreaming eye more abstracted, and the
absent spirit more wandering than before ; but many
other causes than guilt could account for signs so doubtful
and minute.
" You shall soon know all," the last words which he
had addressed to me, yet rang in my ears ; and most in-
tensely did I anticipate the fulfilment of this promise. My
hopes too — those flatterers, so often the pleasing antithe-
ses of reason — whispered that this was not the pledge
of a guilty man ; and yet he had said to Lady Roseville,
that he did not wonder at my estrangement from him:,
such words seemed to require a less favorable construction
than those he had addressed to me ; and, in making this
mental remark, another, of no flattering nature to Glau*
rille's disinterestedness, suggested itself; might not his
interference for me with Lord Dawton, arise rather from
policy than friendship ? — might it not occur to him, if, as
I surmised, he was acquainted with my suspicions, and
acknowledged their dreadful justice, that it would be
advisable to propitiate my silence ? Such were among
15*
174 pelham; or,
the thousand thoughts which flashed across me, and left
my speculations in debate and doubt.
Nor did my reflections pass unnoticed the nature of
Lady Roseville's affection for Glanville. From the seeming
coldness and austerity of Sir Reginald's temperament, it
was likely that this was innocent, at least in act; and
there was also something guileless in the manner in which
she appeared rather to exult in, than to conceal, her
attachment. True that she was bound by no ties ; she
had neither husband nor children, for whose sake love
became a crime : free and unfettered, if she gave her heart
to Glanville, it was also allowable to render the gift
lawful and perpetual by the blessing of the church.
Alas 1 how little can woman, shut up in her narrow
and limited circle of duties, know of the wandering life
and various actions of her lover I Little, indeed, couM
Lady Roseville, when, in the heat of enthusiasm, she
spoke of the lofty and generous character of Glanville,
dream of the foul and dastardly crime of which he was
more than suspected ; nor, while it was, perhaps, her
fondest wish to ally herself to his destiny, could her wild-
est fancies anticipate the felon's fate, which, if death
came not in a hastier and kinder shape, must sooner or
later await him.
Of Thornton I had neither seen nor heard aught since
my departure from Lord Chester's; that reprieve was,
however, shortly to expire. I had scarcely got into
Oxford-street, in my way homeward, when I perceived him
crossing the street with another man. I turned round
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 175
to scrutinize the features of his companion, and, in spite
of a great change of dress, a huge pair of false whiskers,
and an artificial appearance of increased age, my habit
of observing countenances enabled me to recognize, on
the instant, mj intellectual and virtuous friend, Mr. Job
Jonsou. They disappeared in a shop, nor did I think
it worth while further to observe them, though I still bore
a reminiscitory spite against Mr. Job Jonson, which I
was fully resolved to wreak at the first favorable op-
portunity.
I passed by Lady Roseville's door. Though the hour
was late, and I had, therefore, but a slight chance of
finding her at home, yet I thought the chance worth the
trouble of inquiry. To my agreeable surprise, I was
admitted ; no one was in the drawing-room. The servant
said, Lady Roseville was at that moment engaged, but
would very shortly see me, and begged I would wait.
Agitated as I was by various reflections, I walked (in
the restlessness of my mood) to and fro the spacious
rooms which formed Lady Roseville's apartments of
reception. At the far end was a small boudoir, where
none but the goddess's favored few were admitted. As I
approached towards it, I heard voices, and the next ino
ment recognized the deep tones of Glanville. I turned
hastily away, lest I should overhear the discourse ; but I
had scarcely got three steps, when the convulsed sound
of a woman's sob came upon my ear. Shortly afterwards,
•teps descended the stairs, and the street-door opened.
176 pelham; or,
The minutes rolled on, and I became impatient The
servant re-entered — Lady Roseville was so suddenly and
seriously indisposed, that she was unable to see me. I
left the house, and, full of bewildered conjectures, returned
to my apartments.
The next day was one of the most important in my life.
I was standing wistfully by my fire-place, listening with
the most mournful attention to a broken-winded hurdy-
gurdy, stationed opposite to my window, when Bedos
announced Sir Reginald Glanville. It so happened, that
I hdd that morning taken the miniature I had found in
the fatal field, from the secret place in which I usually
kept it, in order closely to examine it, lest any proof of
its ownership, more convincing than the initials and Thorn-
ton's interpretation, might be discovered by a minuter
investigation.
The picture was lying on the table when Glanville
entered : my first impulse was to seize and secrete it ; my
second to suffer it to remain, and to watch the effect the
sight of it might produce. In following the latter, I
thought it, however, as well to choose my own time fof
discovering the miniature ; and, as I moved to the table,
I threw my handkerchief carelessly over it. Glanville
came up to me at once, and his countenance, usuallj" close
and reserved in its expression, assumed a franke ' and
bolder aspect.
"You have lately changed towards me," be ( id —
" mindful of our former friendship, I have come to d a «iitf
the reason."
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. • 177
" Can Sir Reginald Glanville's memory," answered I
" supply him with no probable cause ? "
" It can," replied Glanville, " but I would not trust only
to that. Sit down, Pelham, and listen to me. I can
read your thoughts, and I might affect to despise their
import — perhaps two years since I should — at present
I can pity and excuse them. I have come to you now,
in the love and confidence of our early days, to claim as
then your good opinion and esteem. If you require any
explanation at my hands, it shall be given. My days are
approaching their end. I have made up my accounts
with others — I would do so with you. I confess that I
would fain leave behind me in your breast, the same affec-
tionate remembrance I might heretofore have claimed,
and which, whatever be your suspicions, I have done
nothing to forfeit. I have, moreover, a dearer interest
than my own to consult in this wish — you color, Pelham
— you know to whom I allude; for my sister*s sake, if
not for my own, you will hear me."
Glanville paused for a moment. I raised the handker-
chief from the miniature — I pushed the latter towards
him — "Do you remember this ? " said I, in a low tone.
With a wild cry, which thrilled through my heart,
Glanville sprang forward and seized it. He gazed eagerly
and intensely upon it, and his cheek flushed — his eyes
sparkled — his breast heaved. The next moment he fell
' back in his chair, in one of the half swoons, to which,
upon a sudden and violent emotion, the debilitating effects
of his disease subjected him.
178 pelham; ob,
Before I could come to his assistance, he had recovered.
He looked wildly and fiercely upon me. "Speak," he
cried, " speak — where got you this — where ? — answer,
for mercy's sake ? "
" Recollect yourself," said I sternly. " I found that
token of your presence upon the spot where Tyrrell was
murdered."
" True, true," said Glanville, slowly, and in an absent
and abstracted tone. He ceased abruptly, and covered
his face with his hands ; from this attitude I^e started with
some sudden impulse.
" And tell me," he said, in a low, inward, exulting tone
" was it — was it red with the blood of the murderet
man ? "
" Wretch ! " I exclaimed, " do you glory in your guilt ?
" Hold I " said GUanvile, rising, with an altered and
haughty air; "it is not to your accusations that I am
now to listen ; if you are yet desirous of weighing their
justice before you decide upon them, you will have the
opportunity; I shall be at home at ten this night; come
to me, and you shall know all. At present, the sight
of this picture has unnerved me. Shall I see you */ "
I made no other rejoinder than the brief expression of
my assent, and Glanville instantly left the room.
During the whole of that day, my mind was wrought
up into a state of feverish and preternatural excitement.
I could not remain on the same spot for an instant : my *
pulse beat with the ir/egularity of delirium. For the last
hour I placed my watch before me, and kept my ejes
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. lid
constantly fixed upon it. It was not only Glanville's
confession that I was to hear ; mj own fate, my future
connection with Ellen, rested upon- the story of that night.
For myself, when I called to mind Glanville's acknowledg-
ment of the picture, and his slow and involuntary re-
membrance of the spot where it was found, I scarcely
allowed my temper, sanguine as it was, to hope.
Some minutes before the hour of ten, I repaired to
Qlanville's house. He was alone — the picture was before
him.
I drew my chair towards him in silence, and, accidentally
lifting up my eyes, encountered the opposite mirror. I
stalled at my own face ; the intensity and fearfulness of
my interest had rendered it even more hueless than that
of my companion.
Tuere was a pause for some moments^ nt the end of
which Glanville thus began.
180 pblham; ob.
CHAPTER LXXIV
I do bnt hide
Under these words, like embers, every spark
Of that which has consumed me. Quick and dark
The grave is yawning ; — as its roof shall cover
My limbs with dust and worms, under and over,
80 let oblivion hide the grief. — Julian and MadddU
With thee the very future fled,
I stand amid the past alone,
A tomb which still shall guard the dead.
Though every earthlier trace be flown;
A tomb o'er which the weeds that love
Decay — their wild luxuriance wreathe!
The cold and callous stone above —
And only thou and death beneath.
From Unpublished Pcemt 6y — >-
THE HISTORY OF SIR REGINALD GLANYILLIL
" Yon remember my character at school — the difficulty
with which you drew me from the yisionary and abstracted
loneliness which, even at that time, was more consonant
to my taste, than all the sports and society resorted to by
other boys — and the deep, and, to you, inexplicable
delight with which I returned to my reveries and solitude
again. That character has continued through life the
same ; circumstances have strengthened, not altered it.
So has it been with you ; the temper, the habits, the tastes,
BO strongly contrasted with mine in boyhood, have lost
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 181
nothing of that contrast. Your ardor for thB various
ambition of life is still the antipodes to my influence : your
daring, restless, thoughtful resolution in the pursuit, still
shames my indolence and abstraction. You are still the
votary of the world, but will become its conqueror — I
its fugitive — and shall die its victim.
"After we parted at school, I went for a short time to
a tutor's in shire. Of this place I soon grew weary;
and, my father's death rendering me in a great measure
my own master, I lost no time in leaving it. I was seized
with that mania for travel common enough to all persons
of my youth and disposition. My mother allowed me an
almost.unlimited command over the fortune eventually to
be my own ; and, yielding to my wishes, rather than her
fears, she suffered me, at the age of eighteen, to set out
for the Continent alone. Perhaps the quiet and reserve
of my character made her think me less exposed to the
dangers of youth, than if I had been of a more active and
versatile temper* This is no uncommon mistake ; a serious
and contemplative disposition is, however, often the worst
formed to acquire readily the knowledge of the world, and
always the most calculated to suffer deeply from the ex-
perience.
*' I took up my residence for some time at Spa. It is,
you know, perhaps, a place dull enough to make gambling
the only amusement ; every one played — and I did not
escape the contagion ; nor did I wish it : for, like the
minister Godolphin, my habitual silence made me love
gaming for its own sake, because it was a substitute for
11. — 16
182 PELHAM; OK,
coDversartion. This pursuit brought me acquainted with
Mr. Tyrrell, who was then staying at Spa ; he had not, at
that time, quite dissipated his fortune, but was daily ad-
vancing towards so desirable a consummation. A gam-
bler's acquaintance is readily made, and easily kept, —
provided you gamble too.
" We became as intimate as the reserve of my habits
ever suffered me to become with any one but you. He
was many years older than I — had seen a great deal of
the world — had mixed much in its best societies, and at
that time, whatever was the vulgarity of his mind, had
little of the coarseness of manner which very soon after-
wards distinguished him ; evil communication works rap-
Idly in its results. Our acquaintance was, therefore,
natural enough, especially when it is considered that my
purse was entirely at his disposal — for borrowing is
' twice blessed,' in him that takes and him that gives —
the receiver becomes complaisant and conceding, and the
lender thinks favorably of one he has obliged.
" We parted at Spa, under a mutual promise to write.
I forget if this promise was kept — probably not : we were
not, however, the worse friends for being bad correspond-
ents. I continued my travels for about another year : I
then returned to England, the same melancholy and
dreaming enthusiast as before. It is true that we are the
creatures of circumstances ] but circumstances are also, in
a great measure, the creatures of ils, I mean, they receive
their influences from the previous bent of our own minds ;
what raises one would depress another/ and what vitiates
ADY£NTUR£S OF A GENTLEMAN. 18^
mj neighbor might correct me. Thas the experience of
the world makes some persons more worldly — others more
abstracted ; and the indulgence of the senses becomes a
violence to one mind, and a second nature to another.
As for me, I had tasted all the pleasures youth and opu-
lence can purchase, and was more averse to them than
ever. I had mixed with many varieties of men — I was
Btill more riveted to the monotony of self.
'' I cannot hope, while I mention these peculiarities,
that I am a very uncommon character: I believe the
present age has produced many such. Some time hence,
it will be a curious inquiry to ascertain the causes of that
acute and sensitive morbidity of mind, which has been,
and still is, so epidemic a disease. You know me well
enough to believe, that I am not fond of the cant of
assuming an artificial character, or of creating a fictitious
interest ; and I am far from wishing to impose upon you
a malady of constitution for a dignity of mind. You must
pardon my prolixity. I own that it is very painful to me to
come to the main part of my confessions, and I am endeav-
oring to prepare myself by lingering over the prelude."
Glanville paused here for a few moments. In spite of
the sententious coolness with which he pretended to speak,
I saw that he was powerfully and painfully affected.
" Well," he continued, " to resume the thread of my
narrative ; after I had stayed some weeks with my mother
and sister, I took advantage of their departure for th«
continent, and resolved to make a tour through England
Rich people, and I have always been very rich, grow
2k
184 pelham; OR,
exceedingly tired of the embarrassment of their riches.; I
seized with delight the idea of travelling without car-
riages and servants ; I took merely a favorite horse, and
the black dog, poor Terror, which you see now at my feet.
" The day I commenced this plan was to me the epoch
of a new and terrible existence. However, you must
pardon me if I am not here sufficiently diffuse. Suffice it,
that I became acquainted with a being whom, for the first
and only time in my life, I loved 1 This miniature attempts
to express her likeness ; the initials at th« back, interwoven
with my own, are hers."
" Yes," said I, incautiously, " they are the initials of
Gertrude Douglas."
" What ! " cried Glanville, in a loud tone, which he in-
stantly checked, and continued in an indrawn, muttered
whisper : "How long is it since I heard that name I and
now — now — " he broke off abruptly, and then said, with
a calmer voice, " I know not how you have learnt her
name ; perhaps you will explain 1 "
" From Thornton," said I.
"And has he told you more ? " cried Glanville, as if
gasping for breath — " the history — the dreadful "
" Not a word," said I, hastily ; " he was with'me when
I found the picture, and he explained the initials. "
"It is well 1 " answered Glanville, recovering himself,
"you will see presently if I have reason to love that those
foul and sordid lips should profane the story I am about
to relate. Gertrude was an only daughter ; though of
gentle blood, she was no match for me, either in rank or
ADVENTURES OP A GENTLEMAN. 18f
fortune. Did I say just now that the world had not altered
me ? See my folly ; one year before I saw her, and I
should not have thought her, but myself ^ honored by
a marriage ; — twelve little months had sufficed to —
God forgive me 1 I took advantage of her love — her
youth — her innocence — she fled with me — h\d not to the
altar r^
Again Qlanville paused, and again, by a violent effort,
conquered his emotion, and proceeded : —
" Never let vice be done by halves — never let a man
invest all his purer affections in the woman he ruins —
never let him cherish the kindness, if he gratifies the
selfishness, of his heart. A profligate who really loves
his victim, is one of the most wretched of beings. In spite
of my successful and triumphant passion — in spite of the
first intoxication of possession, and the better and deeper
delight of a reciprocity of thought — feeling, sympathy,
for the first time, found ; — in the midst of all the luxuries
my wealth could produce, and of the voluptuous and
spring-like hues with which youth, health, and first love,
clothe the earth which the loved one treads, and the air
which she inhales : in spite of these, in spite of all, I was
anything but happy. If Gertrude's cheek seemed a shade
more pale, or her eyes less bright, I remembered the
sacrifice she had made me, and believed that she felt it too.
It was in vain, that, with the tender and generous devotion
— never found but in woman — she assured me that my
love was a recompense for all ; the more touching was her
tenderness, the more poignant was my remorse. I never
16*
186 pelham; or,
loved but ner ; I have never, therefore, entered into the
common-place of passion, and I cannot, even to this day,
look upon her sex as ours do in general. I thought, I
think so still, that ingratitude to a woman is often a more
odious offence — I am sure it contains a more painful
penalty — than ingratitude to a man. But enough of this ;
if you know me, you can penetrate the nature of my feel-
ings— if not, it is in vain to expect your sympathy.
" I never loved living long in one place. We travelled
over the greater part of England and France. What must
be the enchantment of love when accompanied with inno-
cence and joy, since, even in sin, in remorse, in grief, it
brings us a rapture to which all other things are tame 1
Oh I those were moments steeped in the very elixir of
life ; overflowing with the hoarded fondness and sympathies
of hearts too full for words, and yet too agitated for
silence, when we journeyed alone, and at night, and, as
the shadows and stillness of the waning hours gathered
round us, drew closer to each other, and concentrated this
breathing world in the deep and embracing sentiment of
our mutual love ! It was then that I laid my burning
temples on her bosom, and felt, while -my hand clasped
hers, that my visions were realized, and my wandering
spirit had sunk unto its rest.
" I remember well that, one night, we were travelling
through one of the mast beautiful parts of England ; it
was in the very height and flush of summer, and the moon
(what scene of love — whether in reality or romance —
has anything of tenderness, or passion, or divinity, where
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 181
her light is not I) filled the intense skies of Jane wivn her
presence, and cast a sadder and paler beauty over Ger«
trade's cheeL She was always of a melancholy and de-
spondent temper ; perhaps, for that reason, she was more
congenial to my own ; and when I gazed upon her that
night, I was not sarprised to see her eyes filled with tears.
' You will laagh at me,' she said, as I kissed them off and
inqaired into the caase ; ' bat I feel a presentiment that 1
cannot shake off ; it tells me that yoa will travel this road
again before many months are past, and that I shall not
be with yoa, perhaps not apon the earth.' She was right
in all her forebodings, bat the suggestion of her death ;
— tJiat came later.
'< We took up our residence for some time at a beautiful
situation, a short distance from a small watering-place,
Here, to my great surprise, I met with TyrrelL He had
come there partly to see a relation from whom he had
expectations, and partly to recruit his health, which was
much broken by his irregularities and excesses. I could
not refuse to renew my old acquaintance with him ; and
indeed, I thought him too much of a man of the world,
and of society, to feel with him that particular delicacy,
in regard to Gertrude, which made me in general shun all
intercourse with my former friends. He was in great
pecuniary embarrassment — much more deeply so than I
then imagined ; for I believed the embarrassment to be
only temporary. However, my purse was then, as before,
at his disposal, and he did not scruple to avail himself
very largely of my offers. He came frequently to our
188 pelham; or,
hoQSc ; and poor Gertrude, who thought I had, for her
Fake, made a real sacrifice in renouncing my acquaintance,
«
endeavored to conquer her usual diflSdence, and that more
painful feeling than diffidence, natural to her station, and
even to affect a pleasure in the society of my friend, which
she was very far from feeling.
" I was detained at for several weeks by Gertrude's
confinement. The child — happy being I — died a week
after its birth. Gertrude was still in bed, and unable to
leave it, when I received a letter from Ellen, to say that
my mother was then staying at Toulouse, and dangerously
ill ; if I wished once more to see her, Ellen besought me
to lose no time in setting off for the continent. You may
imagine my situation, or rather you cannot, for you cannot
conceive the smallest particle of that intense love I bore
to Gertrude. To you — to any other man, it might seem
no extraordinary hardship to leave her even for an un-
certain period — to me it was like tearing away the very
life from my heart.
" I procured her a sort of half companion, and half
nurse ; I provided for her everything that the most anxious
m
and fearful love could suggest ; and, with a mind full of
forebodings too darkly to be realized hereafter, I hastened
to the nearest sea-port, and set sail for France.
" When I arrived at Toulouse, my mother was much
better, but still in a very uncertain and dangerous state
of health. J stayed with her for more than a month,
during which time every post brought me a line from
Gertrude, and bore back a message from 'my heart to
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 189
bers' in retarn. This was no mean consolation, more
especially when each letter spoke of increasing health and
strength. At the month's end, I was preparing to retnrn
— my mother was slowly recovering, and I no longer had
any fears on her account ; but, there are links in our
destiny fearfully interwoven with each other, and ending
only in the anguish of our ultimate doom. The day before
that fixed for my departure, I had been into a house
where an epidemic disease raged ; that night I complained
of oppressive and deadly illness — before morning I was
in a high fever.
" During the time I was sensible of my state, I wrote
constantly to Gertrude, and carefully concealed my illness ;
but for several days I was delirious. When I recovered,
I called eagerly for my letters — there were none : — none !
I could not believe I was yet awake ; but days still passed
on, and not a line from England — from Gertrude. The
instant I was able, I insisted upon putting horses to my
carriage ; I could bear no longer the torture of my sus-
pense. By the most rapid journeys my debility would
allow me to bear, I arrived in England. I travelled down
to by the same road that I had gone over with her 1
the words of her foreboding, at that time, sank like ice into
my heart, ' You will travel this road again before many
months are past, and I shall not be with you ; perhaps, I
shall not be upon the earth I ' At that thought I could
have called unto the grave to open for me. Her un-
accountable and lengthened silence, in spite of all the
urgency and entreaties of my letters for a reply, fiUQed me
190 pelham; or,
with presentiments the most fearful. Oh, God — oh, God,
they were nothing to the truth I
"At last I arrived at : my carriage stopped at tha
very house — my whole frame was perfectly frozen with
dread — I trembled from limb to limb — the ice of a
thousand winters seemed curdling through my blood. The
bell rang — once, twice — no answer — I would have leaped
out of the carriage — I would have forced an entrance;
but I was unable to move. A man fettered and spell-
bound by an incubus, is less helpless than I was. At
last, an old female I had never seen before, appeared.
" * Where is she ? How I — ' I could utter no more —
my eyes were fixed upon the inquisitive and frightened
countenance opposite to my own. Those eyes, I thought,
might have said all that my lips could not ; I was deceived
— the old woman understood me no more than I did her :
another person appeared — I recognized the face — it
was that of a girl, who had been one of our attendants.
Will you believe, that at that sight, the sight of one I
had seen before, and could associate with the remembrance
of the breathing, the living, the present Gertrude, a thrill
of joy flashed across me — my fears seemed to vanish —
my spell to cease ?
" I sprang from the carriage ; I caught the girl by the
robe. * Your mistress,' said I, ' your mistress — she is well
she is alive — speak, speak I The girl shrieked out;
my eagerness, and, perhaps, my emaciated and altered
appearance, terrified her ; but she had the strong nerves
of youth, and was soon re-assured. She requested me tc
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 191
Btep in, and she would tell me all. My wife (Gertrude
always went by that name) was alive, and, she believed,
well, but she had left that place some weeks since. Trem-
bling, and still fearful, but in heaven, comparatively to my
former agony, I followed the girl and the old woman
Into the house.
" The former got me some water. * Now,' said I, when
I had drunk a long and hearty draught, * I am ready to
hear all — my wife has left this house, you say — for what
place ? ' The girl hesitated and looked down ; the old
woman, who was somewhat deaf, and did not rightly un-
derstand my questions, or the nature of the personal
interest I had in the reply, answered, — 'What does the
gentleman want ? the poor young lady who was last here ?
I^ord help her I '
" * What of her ? ' I called out in a new alarm. * What
of her ? Where has she gone ? Who took her away ? '
" ' Who took her I ' mumbled the old woman, fretful at
my impatient tone ; * who took her ? why, the mad doctor '
to be sure!^
" I heard no more ; my frame could support no longer
the agonies my mind had undergone ; I fell lifeless on the
floor.
** When I recovered, it was at the dead of the night.
I was in bed, the old woman and the girl were at my side.
I rose slowly and calmly. You know, all men who have
ever Ruffered much, know the strange anomalies of despair
— the quiet of our veriest anguish. Deceived by my
deanng, I learned by degrees from my attendants, that
192 pelham; or,
Gertrude bad some weeks since betrayed certain Bymptoms
of insanity ; that these, in a very few hoars, arose to an
alarming pitch. From some reason the woman could not
explain, she had, a short time before, discarded the com-
panion I had left with her ; she was, therefore, alone among
servants. . They sent for the ignorant practitioners of the
place ; they tried their nostrums without success ; her
madness increased ; her attendants, with that superstitious
horror of insanity common to the lower classes, became
more and more violently alarmed ; the landlady insisted
on her removal; and — and — I told you, Pelham — ^I
told you — they sent her away — sent her to a ma<J-house 1
All this I listened to I — all ! — ay, and patiently. I noted
down the address of her present abode ; it was about the
distance of twenty miles from . I ordered fresh horses
and set off immediately.
"I arrived there at day-break. It was a large, old
house, which, like a French hotel, seemed to have no
. visible door : dark and gloomy, the pile appeared worthy
of the purpose to which it was devoted. It was a long
time before we aroused any one to answer our call ; at
length I was ushered into a small parlor — how minutely
I remember every article in the room ! — what varieties
there are in the extreme passions 1 sometimes the same
feeling will deaden all the senses — sometimes render them
a hundredfold more acute !
''At last, a man of a smiling and rosy aspect appeared.
He pointed to a chair — rubbed his hands — and begged
me to unfold my business ; few words sufficed to do that.
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 193
I requested to see his patient; I demanded by what
authority she had been put utider his care. The man's
face altered. He was but little pleased with the nature
of my visit. ' The lady,' he said, coolly, ' had been en-
trusted to his care, with an adequate remuneration, by
Mr. Tyrrell ; without that gentleman's permission, he could
not think even of suffering me to see her.' I controlled
my passion ; I knew something, if not of the nature of
private mad-houses, at least of that of mankind. I claimed
his patient as my wife : I expressed myself obliged by his
care, and begged his acceptance of a further remuneration,
which I tendered, and which was eagerly accepted. The
way was now cleared :* there is no hell to which a golden
breach will not win your admittance.
** The man detained me no longer ; he hastened to lead
the way. We passed through various long passages ;
sometimes the low moan of pain and weakness came upon
my ear — sometimes the. confused murmur of the idiot's
drivelling soliloquy. From one passage, at right angles
with the one through which we proceeded, broke a fierce
and thrilling shriek ; it sank at once into silence — per-
haps beneath the lash/
" We were now in a different department of the building
— all was silence — hushed — deep — breathless ; this
seemed to me more awful than the terrible sounds I had
just heard. My guide went slowly on, sometimes breaking-
the stillness of the dim gallery by the jingle of his keys —
sometimes by a muttered panegyric on himself and his
Humanity. J. neither heeded nor answered him.
II. — 11
(94 pelham; ob,
" We read in toe annals of the Inquisition, of every limb,
nerve, sinew of the victim, ^e'lng so nicely and accurately
strained to their utmost, that the frame would not bear
the additional screwing of a single hair-breadth. Such
seemed my state. We came to a small door, at the right
hand ; it was the last but one in the passage. We paused
before it. * Stop,' said I, 'for one moment ; ' and I was
so faint and sick at heart, that I leaned against the wall
to recover myself, before I let him open the door ; when
he did, it was a greater relief than I can express, to see
that all was utterly dark. ' Wait, sir,' said the guide, as
he entered ; and a sullen noise told nie that he was un-
barring the heavy shutter.
" Slowly the grey cold light of the morning broke in r
a dark figure was stretched upon a wretched bed, at the
far end of the room. She raised herself at the sound.
She turned her face towards me ; I did not fall, nor faint,
nor shriek ; I stood motionless, as if fixed into stone ; and
yet it was Gertrude upon whom I gazed. Oh, Heaven I
who but myself could have recognized her ? Her cheek
was as the cheek of the dead — the hueless skin clung to
the bone — the eye was dull and glassy for one moment;
the next it became terribly and preternaturally bright —
but not with the ray of intellect, or consciousness, or re-
cognition. She looked long and hard at me ; a voice,
hollow and broken, but which still penetrated my heartt
came forth through the wan lips, that scarcely moved with
the exertion. * I am very cold,' it said — ' but if I com
plain, you will beat me.' She fell down again upon the
V>ed, and hid her face.
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. Vd\»
" My gaide, who was leaning carelessly by the window,
turned to me with a sort of smirk — ' This is her way
sir,' he said ; ' her madness is of a very singular descrip
tion : we have not, as yet, been able to discover how far
it extends ; sometimes sfie seems conscions of the past,
sometimes utterly oblivious of everything : for days she is
perfectly silent, or, at least, says nothing more than you
have just heard ; but, at times, she raves so violently,
that — that — but I never use force where it can be
helped,^
** I looked at the man, but I could not answer, unless
I had torn him to pieces on the spot. I turned away
hastily from the room : but I did not quit the house
without Gertrude — I placed her in the carriage, by my
side — notwithstanding all the protestations and fears of
the keeper ; these were readily silenced by the sum I gave
him ; it was large enough to have liberated half his house-
hold. In fact, I gathered from his conversation, that
Tyrrell had spoken of Gertrude as an unhappy female
whom he himself had seduced, and would now be rid of.
I thank you, Pelham, for that frown, but keep your in-
dignation till a fitter season for it.
" I took my victim, for I then regarded her as such, to
a secluded and lonely spot : I procured for her whatever
advice England could afir9rd ; all was in vain. Night and
day I was by her side, but she never, for a moment, seemed
to recollect me : yet were there times of fierce and over-
powering delirium, when my name was uttered in the
transport of the most passionate enthusiasm — when my
196 pelham; or,
features as absent, though not present, were recalled and
dwelt upon with all the minuteness of the most faithful
detail ; and I knelt bj her in all those moments, when no
other human being was near, and clasped her wan hand,
and wiped the dew from her forehead, and gazed upon
her convulsed and changing face, and called upon her in
a voice which could once have allayed her wildest emo-
tions ; and had the agony of seeing her eye dwell upon
me with the most estranged indifference, or the most
vehement and fearful aversion. But, ever and anon, she
uttered words which chilled the very marrow of my bones ;
words which I would not, dared not believe, had any
meaning or method in their madness — but which entered
into my own brain, and preyed there like the devouring
of a fire. There was a truth in those ravings — a reason
in that incoherence — and my cup was not yet full.
''At last, one physician, who appeared to me to have
more knowledge than the rest, of the mysterious work-
ings of her dreadful disease, advised me to take her to
the scenes of her first childhood : ' Those scenes,' said he
justly, 'are in all stages of life the most fondly remem-
bered ; and I have noted, that in many cases of insanity,
places are easier recalled than persons ; perhaps, if we can
once awaken one link in the chain, it will communicate to
the rest'
*' I took this advice, and set off to Norfolk. Her early
home was not many miles distant from the church-yard
where you once met me, and in that church-yard her
mother was buried. She had died before Gertrude's flight ;
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 10*
the father's death had followed it : perhaps my suffennga
were a just retribution I The house had gone into other
hands, and I had no difficulty in engaging it. Thank
Heaven, I was spared the pain of seeing any of Gertrude's
relations.
" It was night when we moved to the house. I had
placed within the room where she used to sleep, all the
furniture and books, with which it appeared, from my in-
quiries, to have been formerly filled. We laid her in the
bed that had held that faded and altered form, in its
freshest and purest years. I shrouded myself in one corner
of the room, and counted the dull minutes till the day-light
dawned. I pass over the detail of my recital — the ex-
periment partially succeeded — would to God that it h.id
not 1 would that she had gone down to her grave with hei'
dreadful secret unrevealed I would — but — "
Here Glanville's voice failed him, and there was a brief
silence before he re-commenced.
" Gertrude now had m'any lucid intervals ; but these my
presence were always sufficient to change into a delirious
raving, even more incoherent than her insanity had ever
yet been. She would fly from me with the most fearful
cries, bury her face in her hands, and seem like one op-
pressed and haunted by a supernatural visitation, as long
as I remained in the room ; the moment I left her, she
began, though slowly, to recover.
"This was to me the bitterest affliction of all — to be
forbidden to nurse, to cherish, to tend her, was like taking
/Vom me my last hope ! But little can the thoughtless oi
17*
198 pelham; or,
che worldly dream of the depths ^f a re&l love ; I uSed tc
wait all day by her door, and it was luxury enough to me
to catch her accents, or hear her move, or sigh, or even
weep ; and all night, when she could not know of my
presence, I used to lie down by her bedside ; and when I
sank into a short and convulsed sleep, I saw her once
more, in my brief and fleeting dreams, in all the devoted
love, and glowing beauty, which had once constituted the
whole of my happiness, and my world.
" One day I had been called from my post by her door.
They came to me hastily — she was in strong convulsions.
I flew up stairs, and supported her in my arms till the fits
had ceased : we then placed her in bed ; she never rose
from it again : but on that bed of death, the words, as
well as the cause of her former insanity, were explained
— the mystery was unravelled.
"It was a still and breathless night. The moon, which
was at its decrease, came through the half-closed shutters,
and, beneath its solemn and eternal light, she yielded to
my entreaties, and revealed all. The man — my friend
— Tyrrell — had polluted her ear with his addresses, and
when forbidden the house, had bribed the woman I had left
with her, to convey his letters ; — she was discharged —
but Tyrrell was no ordinary villain ; he entered the house
one evening, when no one but Gertrude was there. —
Come near me, Pelham — nearer — bend down your ear
*- he used force, violence I That night Gertrude's senses
deserted her — you know the rest.
" The moment that I gathered, from Gertrude's broken
ADYENTUllES OF A GENTLEMAN. 199
sentences, their meaning, that moment the demon entered
into mj soul. All human feelings seemed to fly from mv
heart ; it shrank into one burning, and thirsty, and fiery
want — and that want was for revenge! I would have
sprung from the bedside, but Gertrude's hand clung to
me, and detained me ; the damp, chill grasp grew colder
and colder — it ceased — the hand fell — I turned — one
slight, but awful shudder, went over that face, made yet
more wan by the light of the waning and ghastly moon
-—one convulsion shook the limbs — one murmur passed
the falling and hueless lips. I cannot tell you the rest
— you know — you can guess it.
** That day week we buried her in the lonely church-
yard — where she had, in her lucid moments, wished to
He — by the side of her mother."
CHAPTER LXXV.
I breathed,
Bat not the breath of human life;
A serpent round my heart was wreathed,
And stung my very thought to strife. — The Giaour.
" Thank Heaven, the most painful part of my story is
at an end. You will now be able to account for our
meeting in the church-yard at . I secured myself
a lodging at a cottage not far from the spot which held
Gertrude's remains. Night after night I wandered to
2l
200 pelham; or,
•
that lonely place, and longed for a conch beside the
sleeper, whom I mourned in the selfishness of my soul. I
prostrated myself on the mound : I humbled myself to
tears. In the overflowing anguish of my heart I forgot
all that had aroused its stormier passions into life.
Revenge, hatred, — all vanished. I lifted up my face to
the tender heavens : I called aloud to the silent and placid
air ; and when I turned again to that unconscious mound,
I thought of nothing but the sweetness of our early love,
and the bitterness of her early death. It was in such
moments that your footstep broke upon my grief: the
instant others had seen me — other eyes penetrated the
sanctity of my regret — from that instant, whateyer was
more soft and holy in the passions and darkness of my
mind seemed to vanish away like a scroll. I again re-
turned to the intense and withering remembrance which
was henceforward to make the very key and pivot of my
existence. I again recalled the last night of Gertrude's
life ; I again shuddered at the low, murmured sounds,
whose dreadful sense broke slowly upon my soul. I
again felt the cold — cold, damp grasp of those wan and
dying fingers ; and I again nerved my heart to an iron
strength, and vowed deep, deep-rooted, endless, implaca-
ble revenge.
*' The morning after the night you saw me, I left my
abode. I went to London, and attempted to methodize
my plans of vengeance. The first thing to discover, was
TyrrelPs present residence. By accident, 1 heard he waa
at Paris, and, within two hours of receiving the intelJi-
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 20«
gence, I set off for that city. On arriving there, the
habits of the gambler soon discoYered him to mj search
I saw him one night at a hell. He was eyidentiy in dis
tressed circumstances, and the fortune of the table waa
against him. Unperceived bj him, I feasted mj eyes on
his changing countenance, as those deadly and wearing
transitions of feeling, only to be produced by the gaming
table, passed oyer it. While I gazed upon him, a thought
of more exquisite and refined revenge, than had yet
occurred to me, flashed upon my mind. Occupied with
the ideas it gave rise to, I went into the adjoining room,
which was quite empty. There I seated myself, and en-
deavored to develop, more fully, the rude and imperfect
outline of my scheme.
" The arch tempter favored me with a trusty coadjutor
in my designs. I was lost in a reverie, when I heard
myself accosted by name. I looked up, and beheld a man
whom I had often seen with Tyrrell, both at Spa, and
(the watering-place where, with Gertrude, I had met
Tyrrell). He was a person of low birth and character ;
but esteemed, from his love of coarse humor, and vulgar
. enterprise, a man of infinite parts — a sort of Yorick— ^
by the set most congenial to Tyrrell's tastes. By this
undue reputation, and the levelling habit of gaming, to
which he was addicted, he was raised, in certain societies,
much above his proper rank : need I say that this man
was Thornton ? I was but slightly acquainted with him ;
however, he accosied me cordially, and endeavored to
draw me into conversation.
202
pelkam; OB,
** * Bave you seen Tvrrell ? ' said he ; * he is at it
again ; what's bred in the bone, yoa know, &c.' I turned
pale with the mention of TyrrelPs name, and replied very
laconically, to what purpose, I forget — *Ah I ah P re-
joined Thornton, eyeing me with an air of impertinent
familiarity — * I see you have not forgiven him ; he played
you but a shabby trick at ; seduced your mistress, or
something of that sort ; he told me all about it : pray,
how is the poor girl now f '
*^ I made no reply ; I sank down and gasped for breath.
All I had suffered seemed nothing to the indignity I then
endured. She — she — who had once been my pride —
my honor — life — to be thus spoken of — and . I
could not pursue the idea. I rose hastily, looked at
Thornton with a glance, which might have abashed a man
less shameless and callous than himself, and left the room.
** That night, as I tossed restless and feverish on my bed
of thorns, I saw how useful Thornton might be to me in
the prosecution of the scheme I had entered into ; and the
next morning I sought him out, and purchased (no very
difficult matter) both his secresy and his assistance. My
plan of vengeance, to one who had seen and observed less
of the varieties of human nature than you have done,
might seem far-fetched and unnatural ; for while the su-
perficial are ready to allow eccentricity as natural in the
coolness of ordinary life, they never suppose it can exist
in the heat of the passions — as if, in such moments, any
thing was ever considered absurd in the means which was
favorable to the end. Where the secrets of one passionate
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 20S
and irregulated heart laid bare, there would be more
romance in them, than in all the fables which we turn from
with incredality and disdain, as exaggerated and over-
drawn.
"Among the thousand schemes for retribution which
had chased each other across my miod, the death of ray
victim was only the ulterior object. Death, indeed — the
pang of one . moment — appeared to me but very feeble
justice for the life of lingering and restless anguish to
which his treachery had condemned me ; but my penance,
my doom, I could have forgiven : it was the fate of a more
innocent and injured being which irritated the sting and
fed the venom of my revenge. That revenge no Ordinary
punishment could appease. If fanaticism can only be
satisfied by the rack and the flames, you may readily con-
ceive a like unappeasable fury, in a hatred so deadly, so
concentrated, and so just as mine — and if fanaticism
persuades itself into a virtue, so also did my hatred.
"The scheme which I resolved upon was, to aitach
Tyrrell more and more to the gaming-table, to be present
at his infatuation, to feast my eyes upon the feverish
intensity of his suspense — to reduce him, step by step,
to the lowest abyss of poverty — to glut my soul with the
abjectness and humiliation of his penury — to strip him
of all aid, consolation, sympathy, and friendship — to
follow him, unseen, to his wretched and squalid home —
to mark the struggles of the craving nature with the
Joathing pride — and, finally, to watch the frame wear,
the eye sink, the lip grow livid, and all the terrible and
204 pelham; ob,
torturing progress of gnawing want, to utter starvation.
Then, in that last state, but not before, I might reveal
myself — stand bj the hopeless and succorless bed of
death — shriek out in the dizzy ear a name, which could
treble the horrors of remembrance — snatch from the
struggling and agonizing conscience the last plank, tLe
last straw, to which in its madness, it could cling, and
blacken the shadows of departing life, by opening to the
shuddering sense the threshold of an impatient and yawn-
ing hell.
" Hurried away by the unhallowed fever of these pro-
jects, I thought of nothing but their accomplishment. I
employed Thornton, who still maintained his intimacy
with Tyrrell, to decoy him more and more to the gambling-
house ; and, as the unequal chances of the public table
were not rapid enough in their termination to consummate
the ruin even of an impetuous and vehement gamester,
like Tyrrell, so soon as my impatience desired, Thornton
took^very opportunity of engaging him in private play,
and accelerating my object by the unlawful arts of which
he was master. My enemy was every day approaching
the farthest verge of ruin ; near relations he had none, all
liis distant ones he had disobliged ; all his friends, and
even his acquaintance, he had fatigued by his importunity,
or disgusted by his conduct. In the whole world there
seemed not a being who would stretch forth a helping
hand to save him from the total and penniless beggary
to which he was hopelesslj*advancing. Out of the wrecks
df his former property, and the generosity of former friendsi
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 205
whatever he had already wrang, had been immediately
staked at the gaming-house and immediately lost.
" Perhaps this would not so soon have been the case,
if Thornton had not artfully fed and sustained his ex-
pectations. He had been long employed by Tyrrell in a
professional capacity, and he knew well all the gamester's
domestic affairs ; and when he promised, should things
come to the worst, to find some expedient to restore them,
Tyrrell easily adopted so flattering a belief.
** Meanwhile, I had taken the name and disguise under
favor of which you met me at Paris, and Thornton had
introduced me to Tyrrell as a young Englishman of great
wealth, and stilL greater inexperience. The gambler
grasped eagerly at an acquaintance, which Thornton
readily persuaded him he could turn to such account:
and I had thus every facility of marking, day by day,
how my plot thickened, and my vengeance hastened to its
triumph:
<< This was not all. I said, there was not in the wide
world a being who would have saved Tyrrell from the fate
he deserved and was approaching. I forgot there was one
who still clung to him with affection, and for whom he
still seemed to harbor the better and purer feelings of
less degraded and guilty times. This person (you will
guess readily it was a woman) I made it my especial
business and care to wean away from* my prey ; I would
not suffer him a consolation he had denied to me. I used
all the arts of seduction to obtain the transfer of her
affections. Whatever promises and vows — whether of
II. — 18
1
206 pelham; or,
love OP wealth — could effect, were tried ; nor, at last,
without success — / triumphed. The woman became my
slave. It was she who, whenever Tyrrell faltered in hia
course to destruction, dombated his scruples, and urged
on his reluctance ; it was she who informed me minutely
of his pitiful finances, and assisted, to her utmost, in ex-
pediting their decay. The still more bitter treachery of
deserting him in his veriest want I reserved till the fittest
occasion, and contemplated with a savage delight.
'' I was embarrassed in my scheme by two circumstances :
first, Thornton's acquaintance with you ; and, secondly,
Tyrrell's receipt (some time afterwards) of a very un-
expected suln of two hundred pounds, in return for
renouncing all further tiud possible claim on the purchasers
of his estate. To the former, so far as it might interfere
with my plans, or lead to my detection, you must pardon
me for having put a speedy termination ; the latter threw
me into great consternation — for Tyrrell's first idea was
to renounce the gaming-table, and endeavor to live upon
the trifling pittance he had acquired, as long as the
utmost economy would permit.
" This idea, Margaret, the woman I spoke of, according
to my instructions, so artfully and successfully combated,
that TyiTell yielded to his nat*iral inclination, and returned
once mora to the infatuation of his favorite pursuit.
However, I had become restlessly impatient for the con-
clusion to this prefatory part of my revenge, and, accord'
ingly, Thornton and myself arranged that Tyrrell should
be persuaded by the former to risk all, even to his very
ADVENTUEES OP A GENTLEMAN. 201
last farthing, in a private game with me Tyrrell, who
believed he should readily recruit himself by my unskilful-
ness in the game, fell easily into the snare ; and on the
second night of our engagement, be not only had lost the
whole of his remaining pittance, but had signed bonds
owning to a debt of far greater amount than he, at that
time, could ever even have dreamt of possessing.
" Flushed, heated, almost maddened with my triumph,
I yielded to the exultation of the moment. I did not
know you were so near — I discovered myself — you
remember the scene. I went joyfully home : and for the
first time since Gertrude's death, I was happy ; but there
I imagined my vengeance only would begin ; I revelled in
the burning hope of marking the hunger and extremity that
must ensue. The next day, when Tyrrell turned round,
in his despair, for one momentary word of comfort from
the lips to which he believed, in the fond credulity of his
heart, falsehood and treachery never came, his last earthly
friend taunted and deserted him. Mark me, Pelham — I
was by, and heard her I
"But here my power of retribution was to close : from
the thirst still unslaked and unappeased, the cup was
abruptly snatched. Tyrrell disa'ppeared — no one knew
whither. . I set Thornton's inquiries at work. A week
afterwards he brought me word that Tyrrell had died in
extreme want, and from very despair. Will you credit,
ihat at hearing this news, my first sensations were only
rage and disappointment ? True, he had died, died in all
the misery my heart could wish, but I had not seen him
20% pelham; OB,
die ; and the death-bed seemed to me robbed of its bltter«
est pang.
'^ I know not to this day, though I have often qnestioned
him, what interest Thornton had in deceiving me by this
tale ; for my own part, I believe that he himself was
deceived ;* certain it is (for I inquired), that a person,
very much answering to TyrrelPs description, had perished
in the state Thornton mentioned ; and this might therefore,
in all probability, have misled him.
" I left Paris, and returned, through Normandy, to
England (where I remained some weeks) ; there we again
met : but I think we did not meet till I had been perse-
cuted by the insolence and importunity of Thornton. The
tools of our passions cut both ways ; like the monarch,
who employed strange beasts in his army, we find oar
treacherous allies less destructive to others than ourselves.
But I was not of a temper to brook the tauntings, or the
encroachment of my own creature ; it had been with but
an ill grace that I had endured his familiarity, when I
absolutely required his services, much less could I suffer
his intrusion when those services — services not of love,
but hire — were no ionger necessary. Thornton, like all
persons of his stamp, has a low pride, which I was con«
fitantly offending. He had mixed with men, more than
my equals in rank, on a familiar footing, and he could ill
brook the hauteur with which my disgust at his character
absolutely constrained me to treat him. It is true, that
* It seems (from subsequent inYestigation) that this was reollj
the case.
ADVENTURES OP A GENTLEMAN. 209
the profuseness of my liberality was such, 'that the mean
wretch stomached affDnts for which he was so largely
paid ; bat, with the cuuiiiDg and malicious spite natural
to him, he knew well how to repay them in kind. While
he assisted, he affected to ridicule, my revenge ; and though
he soon saw that he durst not, for his very life, breathe a
syllable openly against Gertrude^ or her memory, yet he
contrived, by general remarks, and covert insinuations, to
gall me to the very quick, and in the very tenderest point.
Thus a deep and cordial antipathy to each other arose,
and grew, and strengthened, till, I believe, like the fiends
in hell, our mutual hatred became our common punish-
ment.
" No sooner had I returned to England, than I found
him here, awaiting my arrival. He favored me with fre-
quent visits and requests for money. Although not pos-
sessed of any secret really important affecting my character,
he knew well, that he was possessed of one important to
my quiet ; and he availed himself to the utmost of my
strong and deep aversion even to the most delicate
recurrence to my love to Gertrude, and its unhallowed and
disastrous termination. At length, however, he wearied
me : I found that he was sinking into the very dregs and
refuse of society, and I could not longer brook the idea
of enduring his familiarity and feeding his vices.
" I pass over any detail of my own feelings, as well as
my outward and worldly history. Over my mind, a
great change had passed ; I was no longer torn by violent
and contending passions ; upon the tumultuous sea a dead
IS*
210 pelham; oe,
and heavy torpor bad fallen ; the very winds, necessary
for health, had ceased ;
■
'I slept on the abyss without a surge.'
One violent and engrossing passion is among the worst
of all immoralities^ for it leaves the mind too stagnant
and exhausted for those activities and energies which
constitute our real duties. However, now that the tyrant
feeling of my mind was removed, I endeavored to shake
off the apathy it had produced, and return to the various
occupations and business of life. Whatever could divert
me from my own dark memories, or give a momentary
motion to the stagnation of my mind, I grasped at with
the fondness and eagerness of a child. Thus, you found
me surrounding myself with luxuries which palled upon
my taste the instant that their novelty had passed : now
striving for the vanity of literary fame ; now, for the
emptier baubles which riches could procure. At one time
I shrouded myself in my closet, and brooded over the
dogmas of the learned, and the errors of the wise ; at
\nother, I plunged into the more engrossing and active
pursuits of the living crowd which rolled around me, —
and flattered my heart, that amidst the applause of senators,
and the whirlpool of affairs, I could lull to rest the voices
of the past, and the spectre of the dead.
" Whether these hopes were effectual, and the struggle
not in vain, this haggard and wasting form, drooping day
by day into the grave, can declare ; but I said I would
not dwell long upon this part of my history, nor is it
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLE xM AN. 211
necessary. Of one thing only, not connected with the
main part of my confessions, it is right, for the sake of
one tender and guiltless being, that I should speak.
** In the cold and friendless world with which I mixed,
there was a heart which had years ago given itself wholly
up to me. At that time I was ignorant of the gift I so
little deserved, or (for it was before I knew Gertrude) I
might have returned it, and been saved years of crime and
anguish. Since then, the person I allude to had married,
and, by the death of her husband, was once more free.
Intimate with my family, and more especially with my
sister, she now met me constantly ; her compassion for the
change she perceived in me, both in mind and person, was
stronger than even her reserve, and this is the only reason
why I speak of an attachment which ought otherwise to
be concealed : I believe that you already understand to
whom I allude, and since you have discovered her weak-
ness, it is right that you should know also her virtue ; it
is right that you should learn, that it was not in her the
fant£(sy, or passion of a moment, but a long and secreted
love ; that you should learn, that it was her pity, and no
nnfeminine disregard to opinion, -which betrayed her into
imprudence, and that she is, at this moment, innocent of
everything, but the folly of loving me,
'* I pass on to the time when I discovered that I had
been, either intentionally or unconsciously, deceived, and
that my enemy yet lived 1 lived in honor, prosperity, and
whe world's blessings. This information was like removing
f barrier from a stream hitherto pent into quiet and re«
212 PELHAM; OR,
straint. All the stormy thoughts, feelings, and passions,
so long at rest, rashed again into a terrible and tamnltiious
action. The newly-formed stratum of my mind was swept
away ; everything seemed a wreck, a chaos, a convulsion
of jarring elements : but this is a trite and tame descrip-
tion of mj feelings ; words would be but commonplace to
express the revulsion which I experienced : yet, amidst all,
there was one paramount and presiding thought, to which
the rest were as atoms in the heap — the awakened
thought of vengeance I — but how was it to be gratified ?
" Placed as Tyrrell now was in the scale of society,
every method of retribution but the one formerly rejected,
seemed at an end. To that one, therefore, weak and
merciful as it appeared to me, I resorted — you took my
challenge to Tyrrell — you . remenfber his behavior —
Conscience doth indeed make cowards of us all ! The
letter inclosed to me in his to you, contained only the
commonplace argument urged so often by those who have
injured us : viz. the reluctance at attempting our life after
having ruined our happiness. When I found that he had
left London, my rage knew no bounds ; I was absolutely
frantic with indignation ; the earth reeled before my eyes ;
I was almost suffocated by the violence — the whirlpool
— of my emotions. I gave myself no time to think, — 1
left town in pursuit of my foe.
"I found that — still addicted, though, I believe, not
BO madly as before, to his old amusements — he was in
the neighbourhood of Newmarket, awaiting the races,
shortly to ensue. No sooner did I find his address, thaa
ADYSNTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 213
J wrote bim another challenge, still more forcibly and
iusaltioglj worded than the one yon took. In this I said
that his refusal was of no avail ; that I had sworn that
my vengeance shonld overtake bim ; and that sooner or
later, in the face of heaven and despite of hell, my oath
should be fulfilled. Remember those words, Pelham : I
shall refer to them hereafter.
'' Tyrrell's reply was short and contemptuous ; he affect-
ed to treat me as a madman. Perhaps (and I confess that
the incoherence of my letter authorized such suspicion)
he believed I really was one. He concluded by saying,
that if he received more of my letters, he should sheltei
himself from my aggressions by the protection of the law.
''On receiving this reply, a stern, sullen, iron spirit
entered into my bosom. I betrayed no external mark of
passion ; I sat down in silence — I placed the letter and
Gertrude's picture before me. There, still and motionless,
I remained for hours. I remember well, I was awakened
from my gloomy reverie by the clock, as it struck the first
hour of the morning. At that lone and ominous sounds,
the associations of romance and dread which the fables
of our childhood connect with it, rushed coldly and fear-
fully into my mind ; the damp dews broke oat upon my
forehead, and the blood curdled in my limbs. In that
moment I knelt down and vowed a frantic and deadly
oath — the words of which I would not now dare to
repeat — that before three days expired, hell should no
longer be cheated of its prey. I rose — I flung myself
on my bed, and slept.
214 pslham; or,
" The next day I left my abode. I purchased s strong
and swift horse, and, disguising myself from head to foot
in a long horseman's cloak, I set off alone, locking in my
heart the calm and cold conviction, that my oath should
be kept I placed, concealed in my dress, two pistols ; my
intention was to follow Tyrrell wherever he went, till we
could find ourselves alone, and without the chance of
intrusion. It was then my determination to force him
into a contest, and that no trembling of the hand, no error
of the swimming sight, might betray my purpose, to place
us foot to foot, and the mouth of each pistol almost to
the very temple of each antagonist. Nor was I deterred
for a moment from this resolution by the knowledge that
my own death must be as certain as my victim's. On the
contrary, I looked forward to dying thus, and so baffling
the more lingering, but not less sure, disease, which was
daily wasting me away, with the same fierce, yet not un*
quiet delight with which men have rushed into battle, and
sought out a death less bitter to them than life.
"For two days, though I each day saw Tyrrell, fate
threw into my way no opportunity of executing my design.
The morning of the third came — Tyrrell was on the race
ground : sure that he would remain there for some hours,
I put up my wearied horse in the town, and seating
myself in an obscure corner of the course, was contented
with watching, as the serpent does his victim, the distant
motions of my enemy. Perhaps you can recollect passing
a man seated on the ground, and robed in a horseman's
cloak. I need not tell you that it was I whom yon passed
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 216
and accosted. I saw joxx ride by me ; bat the moment
jou were gone, I forgot the occurrence. I looked upon
the rolling and distant crowd, as a child views the figures
of the phantasmagoria, scarcely knowing if my eyes
deceived me, feeling impressed with some stupefying and
ghastly sensation of dread, and cherishing the conviction
that my life was not as the life of the creatures that passed
before me.
" The day waned — I went back for my horse — I re-
turned to the course, and, keeping at a distance as little
suspicions as possible, followed the motions of Tyrrell.
He went back to the town — rested there — repaired to
a gaming-table — stayed at it a short time — returned to
his inn, and ordered his horse.
''In all these motions I followed the object of my
pursuit ; and my heart bounded with joy when I, at last,
saw him set out alone, and in the advancing twilight I
followed him till he left the main road. Now, I thought,
was my time. I redoubled my pace, and had nearly
reached him, when some horsemen appearing, constrained
me again to slacken my pace. Yarious other similar
interruptions occurred to delay my plot. At length all
was undisturbed. I spurred my horse, and was nearly on
the heels of my enemy, when I perceived him join another
man — this was i/ou — I clenched my teeth, and drew my
breath, as I once more retreated to a distance. In a short
time two men passed me, and I found, that, owing to some
accident on the road, they stopped to assist you. It
appears by your evidence on a subsequent event, that
2h
216 pelham; or,
these men were Thornton and his friend Dawson : at the
time, they passed too rapidly, and I was too much occu-.
pied in my own dark thoughts, to observe them : still I
kept up to you and Tyrrell, sometimes catching the out-
line of your figures through the moonlight, at others,
(with the acute sense of anxiety,) only just distinguishing
the clang of your horses' hoofs on the stony ground. At
last, a heavy shower came on ; imagine my joy, when
Tyrrell left you and rode off alone !
"I passed you, and followed my enemy as fast as my
horse would permit ; but it was not equal to Tyrrell's,
which was almost at its full speed. However, I came, at
last, to a very steep, and almost precipitous, descent, j
was forced to ride slowly and cautiously ; this, however,
I the less regarded, from my conviction that Tyrrell must
be obliged to use the same precaution. My hand was on
my pistol with the grasp of premeditated revenge, when a
shrill, sharp solitary cry broke on my ear.
** No sound followed — all was silence. I was just ap-
proaching towards the close of the descent, when a horse
without its rider passed me. The shower had ceased, and
the moon broken from the cloud some minutes before ; by
its light, I recognized the horse rode by Tyrrell ; perhaps,
I thought, it has thrown its master, and my victim will
DOW be utterly in my power. I pushed hastily forward in
spite of the hill, not yet wholly passed. I came to a spot
of singular desolation — it was a broad patch of waste
land, a pool of water was on the right, and a remarkable
and withered tree hung over it. I looked r jund but saw
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 217
nothing of life stirring. A dark and imperfectly developed
object lay by the side of the pond — I pressed forward —
merciful God I my enemy had escaped my hand, and lay in
the stillness of death before me I "
" What 1 " I exclaimed, interrupting Glanville, for I
could contain myself no longer, " it was not by you then
that Tyrrell fell ? " With these words, I grasped his hand ;
and, excited as I had been by my painful and wrought-up
interest in his recital, I burst into tears of gratitude and
joy. Reginald Glanville was innocent — Ellen was not
the sister of an assassin I
After a short pause, Glanville continued —
"• I gazed upon the upward and distorted face, in a
deep and sickening silence ; an awe, dark and undefined,
crept over my heart ; I stood beneath the solemn and
sacred heavens, and felt that the hand of God was upon
me — that a mysterious and fearful edict had gone forth
— that my headlong and unholy wrath had, in the very
midst of its fury, been checked, as if but the idle anger of
a child — that the plan I had laid in the foolish wisdom
of my heart, had been traced, step by step, by an all-
seeing eye, and baffled in the moment of its fancied suc-
cess, by an inscrutable and awful doom. I had wished
the death of my enemy — lo 1 my wish was accomplished
— how^ I neither knew nor guessed — there, a still and
senseless clod of earth, without power of offence or injury
he lay beneath my feet — it seemed as if, in the moment
of my uplifted arm, the Divine avenger had asserted His
prerogative — as if the angel which had smitten the As-
11. — 19
219 pelham; or,
tfjriaD, had again swept forth, thoagh against a mcandr
victim — and, while he punished the guilt of a human
criminal, had set an eternal barrier to the vengeance of
a human foe I
" I dismounted from my horse, and bent over the mur-
dered man. I drew from my bosom the miniature, which
never forsook me, and bathed the lifeless resemblance of
Gertrude in the blood of her betrayer. Scarcely had I
done so, before my ear caught the sounds of steps ; hastily
I thrust, as I thought, the miniature in my bosom, re-
mounted, and rode hurriedly away. At that hour, and for
many which succeeded to it, I believe that all sense was
suspended. I was like a man haunted by a dream, and
wandering under its influence ; or as one whom a spectre
pursues, and for whose eye, the breathing and busy world
is but as a land of unreal forms and flitting shadows,
«
teeming with the monsters of darkness, and the terrors
of the tomb.
'' It was not till the next day that I missed the picture.
I returned to the spot — searched it carefully, but in vain
— the miniature could not be found ; I returned to town,
and shortly afterwards the newspapers informed me of
what had subsequently occurred. I saw, with dismajf,
that all appearances pointed to me as the criminal, and
that the officers of justice were at that moment tracing
the clue which my cloak, and the color of my horse, afford-
ed them. My mysterious pursuit of Tyrrell : the disguise
1 had assumed ; the circumstance of my passing you on
the road, and of my flight when you approached, all spoke
ADYENTUKSB OF A GENTLEMAN 219
Folames against me. A stronger evidence yet remained,
and it was reserved for Thornton to indicate it — at this
moment my life is in his hands. Shortly after my retnrn
to town, he forced his way into my room, shut the door
i— bolted it — and, the moment we were alone, said, with
a savage and fiendish grin of exultation and defiance,— >
* Sir Reginald Glanville, you have many a time and oft
insulted me with your pride, and more with your gifts ;
now it is my time to insult and triumph over you — know
that one word of mine could sentence you to the gibbet. '
** He then minutely summed up the evidence against
me, and drew from his pocket the threatening letter I had
last written to Tyrrell. You remember that therein I
said my vengeance was sworn against him, and that,
sooner or later, it should overtake him. ' Couple,' said
Thornton, coldly, as he replaced the letter in his pocket
— ' couple these words with the evidence" already against
you, and I would not buy your life at a farthing's value.'
" How Thornton came by this paper, so important to
my safety, I know not : but when he read it, I was startled
by the danger it brought upon me : one glance sufficed to
show me that I was utterly at the mercy of the villain
who stood before me : he saw and enjoyed my struggles.
"*Now,' said he, *we know each other; — art; present
I want a thousand pounds ; you will not refuse it me, I am
sure ; when it is gone I shall call again ; till then you can
do without me.' I flung hitn a cheque for the money, and
he departed.
''Tou may conceive the mortification I endured in
220
P£LHAM; OB,
this sacrifice of pride to pradence : bat those were no
ordinary motives which induced me to submit to it. Fast
approaching to the grave, it mattered to me but little
whether a violent death should shorten a life to which a
limit was already set, and which I was far from being
anxious to retain : but I could not endure the thought
of bringing upon my mother and my sister, the wretched-
ness and shame which the mere suspicion of a crime so
enormous, would occasion them ; and when my eye caught
all the circumstances arrayed a/jgainst me, my pride seemed
to suffer a less mortification even in the course I adopted
than in the thought of the felon's gaol, and the criminal's
trial ; the hoots and execration of the mob, and the death
and ignominious remembrance of the murderer.
"Stronger than either of these motives, was my shrinking
and loathing aversion to whatever seemed at all likely
to unrip the secret history of the past. I sickened at the
thought of Gertrude's name and fate being bared to the
vulgar eye, and exposed to the comment, the strictures,
the ridicule of the gaping and curious public. It seemed
to me, therefore, but a very poor exertion of philosophy to
conquer my feelings of humiliation at Thornton's insolence
and triumph, and to console myself with the reflection,
that a few months must rid me alike of his exactions and
my life.
"But, of late, Thornton's persecutions and demands
have risen to such a height, that I have been scarcely
able to restrain my indignation and control myself into
compliance. The struggle is too powerful for mj frame;
ADVENTUBES OF A GENTLEMAN. 221
It is rapidly bringing on the fiercest and last contest I
shall safifer, before Hhe wicked shall cease from troubling,
and the weary be at rest.' Some days since, I came to
a resolution, which I am now aboat to execute ; it is to '
leave this country and take refuge on the continent.
There I shall screen myself from Thornton's pursuit, and
the danger which it entails upon me ; and there, unknown
and undisturbed, I shall await Uie termination of my
disease.
"But two duties remained to me to fulfil before I
departed ; I have now discharged them both. One was
due to the warm-hearted and noble being who honored
me with her interest and affection — the other to you. I
went yesterday to the former ; I sketched the outline of
that history which I have detailed to you. I showed her
the waste of my barren heart, and spoke to her of the
disease which was wearing me away. How beautiful is
the love of woman I She would have followed me over
the world — received my last sigh, and seen me to the
rest I shall find, at length ; and this without a hope, or
thought of recompense, even from the worthlessness of
my love.
"But, enough I — of her my farewell has been taken.
Your suspicions I have seen and forgiven — for they were
natural ; it was due to me to remove them : the pressure
of your hand tells me, that I have done so : but I had
another reason for my confessions. I have worn away
the romance of my heart, and I have now no indulgence
for the little delicacies and petty scruples which often
1Q«
222 pelbam; or
btand in the way of oar real happiness. I have marked
your former addresses to Ellen, and, I confess, with great
joy ; for I know, amidst all your worldly ambition, and
the encrusted artificiality of your exterior, how warm and
generous is your real heart — how noble and intellectual
is your real mind : and were my sister tenfold more perfect
than I believe her, I do not desire to find on earth one
more deserving of her than yourself. I have remarked
your late estrangement from Ellen ; and, while I guessed,
I felt that, however painful to me, I ought to remove^
the cause : she loves you — though, perhaps, you know it
not — much and truly ; and since my earlier life has been
passed in a selfish inactivity, I would fain let it close with
the reflection of having served two beings whom I prize
so dearly, and the hope that their happiness will commence
with my death.
''And how, Pelham, I have done ; I am weak and ex-
hausted, and cannot bear more — even of your society,
now. Think over what I have last said, and let me see
yon again to-morrow ; on the day after, I leave England
for ever.**
ADVENTUEES OF A GENTLEMAN. 223
CHAPTER LXXVI.
* 4e 4e ♦ *
But wilt thou accept not
The worship the heart lifts above,
And the Heavens reject not.
The desire of the moth for the star.
Of the night for the morrow,
The devotion to something afar
From the sphere of our sorrow ? — P. B. Shellbt.
It was not with a light heart — for I loved Glanville
too well, not to be powerfully affected by his awful history
'— but with a chastised and sober joy, that I now beheld
fliy friend innocent of the guilt of which my suspicions
had accused him, while the only obstacle to my marriage
with his sister was removed. True it was that the sword
yet hang over his head, and that while he lived, there
could be no rational assurance of his safety from the
disgrace and death of the felon. In the world's eye,
therefore, the barrier to my union with Ellen would have
been far from being wholly removed ; but, at that moment,
my disappointments had disgusted me with the world,
and I turned with a double yearning of heart to her whose
pure and holy love could be at once my recompense and
retreat.
Nor was this selfish consideration my only motive in
the conduct I was resolved to adopt ; on the contrary, it
was scarcely more prominent in my mind, than those
1
224 pelham; or,
derived from giving to a friend who was now dearer to
me than ever, his only consolation on this earth, and to
Ellen the safest protection, in case of any danger to her
brother. With these, it is true, were mingled feelings
which, in happier circumstances, might have been those
of transport at a bright and successful termination to a
deep and devoted love ; but these I had, while Glanville's
very life was so doubtful, little right to indulge, and I
checked them as soon as they arose.
After a sleepless night I repaired to Lady Glanville's
house. It was long since I had been there, and the
servant who admitted me seemed somewhat surprised at
the earliness of my visit. I desired to see the mother,
and waited in the parlor till she came. I made but a
scanty exordium to my speech. In very few words I ex-
pressed my love to Ellen, and besought her mediation in
my behalf; nor did I think it would be a slight considera*
tion in my favor, with the fond mother, to mention
Glanville^s approbation of my suit
** Ellen is up stairs in the drawing-room," said Lady
Glanville. "I will go and prepare her to receive you —
if you have her consent, you have mine."
*' Will you suffer me then," said I, " to forestall yon ?
Forgive my impatience, and let me see her before you do,"
Lady Glanville was a woman of the good old school,
and stood somewhat upon forms and ceremonies. I did
not, therefore, await the answer, which I foresaw might
not be favorable to. my success, but with my customary
assurance, left the room, and hastened up stairs. I entered
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 225
the drawing-room, and shut the door. Ellen was at the
far end ; and as I entered with a light step, she did not
perceive me till I was close by.
She started when she saw me ; and her cheek, before
very pale, deepened into crimson. " Good Heavens I is
it you I" she said falteringly. "I— -I thought — but —
but excuse me for an instant, I will call my mother."
" Stay for one instant, I beseech you — it is from your
mother that I come — she has referred me to you. " And
with a trembling and hurried voice, for all my usual bold-
ness forsook me, I poured forth, in rapid and burning
words, the history of my secret and hoarded love — its
doubts, ' fears, and hopes.
Ellen sank back on her chair, overpowered and silenced
by her feelings, and the vehemence of my own. I knelt,
and took her hand ; I covered it with my kisses — it was
not withdrawn from them. I raised my eyes, and beheld
in hers all that my heart had hoped, but did not dare to
portray.
" You — you," said she — when at last she found words
— "I imagined that you only thought of ambition and
the world — I could not have dreamt of this." She
ceased, blushing and embarrassed.
" It is true," said I, " that you had a right to think so,
for, till this moment, I have never opened to you even a
glimpse of my veiled heart, and its secret and wild desires ;
but do you think that my love was the less a treasure,
because it was hidden ? or the less deep because it was
therished at the bottom of my soul ? No — no ; believe
1
226 pelham; or,
me, that love was not to be mingled with the ordinary
objects of life — it was too pure to be profaned by the
levities and follies which are all of my nature that I have
permitted myself to develope to the world. Do not im-
agine, tbati because I have seemed an idler with the idle
— selfish with the interested — and cold, and vain, and
frivolous, with those to whom such qualities were both a
passport and a virtue ; do not imagine that I have con-
cealed within me nothing more worthy of you and of
myself; my very love for you shows that I am wiser and
better than I have seemed. Speak to me, Ellen — may
I call you by that name — one word — one syllable I speak
to me, and tell me that yon have read my heart, and
that you will not reject it!" .
There came no answer from those dear lips ; but their
soft and tender smOe told me that I might hope. That
hour I still recall and bless I that hoar was t}\9 happiest
of my life.
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 221
CHAPTER LXXVII.
A thousand crowns, or else lay down your head.
2nd Fart of Henry VL
From Ellen, I hastened to the house of Sir Reginald.
The hall was in all the confusion of approaching depar*
tnre. I sprang over the paraphernalia of books and boxes
which obstrncted my way, and bounded up the stairs.
Glanville was, as usual, alone : his countenance was less
pale than it had been lately, and when I saw it brighten
as I approached, I hoped, in the new happiness of my
heart, that he might baffle both his enemy and his di9ease.
I told him all that had just occurred between Ellen and
myself. ''And now," said I, as I clasped his handt*, ** I
have a proposal to make, to which you must accede : let
' me accompany you abroad ; I will go with you to whatever
corner of the world you may select. We will plan together
every possible method of concealing our retreat. Upon
the past I will never speak to you. In your hours of
solitude I will never disturb you by an unwelcome and
ill-timed sympathy. I will tend upon you, watch over
you, bear with you, with more than the love and tender-
ness of a a brother. You shall see me only when you wish
it. Your loneliness shall never be invaded. When you
get better, as I presage you will, I will leave you to come
Dack to England, and provide for the worst, by ensuring
228 pelham; or,
your sister a protector. I will then return to you alone,
that your seclusion may not be endangered by the know-
ledge, even of Ellen, and you shall have me by your side
tm— till— "*
** The last I " interrupted Glanville. " Too — too gener-
ous Pelham, I feel — these tears (the first I have shed for
a long, long time) tell you, that I feel to the heart —
your friendship and disinterested attachment ; but in the
moment your love for Ellen has become successful, I will
not tear you from its enjoyment. Believe me, all that I
could derive from your society, could not afford me half
the happiness I should have in knowing that you and
Ellen were blest in each other. No — no, my solitude
will, at that reflection, be deprived of its sting. You shall
hear from me once again ; my letter shall contain a request,
and your executing that last favor must console and satisfy
the kindness of your heart. For myself, I shall die as I
have lived — alone. All fellowship with my griefs would
seem to me strange and unwelcome."
I would not suffer Glanville to proceed. I interrupted
him with fresh arguments and entreaties, to which he
seemed at last to submit, and I was in the firm hope
of having conquered his determination, when we were
startled by a sudden and violent noise in the hall.
*' It is Thornton," said Glanville, calmly. " I told them
not to admit him, and he is forcing his way."
Scarcely had Sir Reginald said this, before Thornton
burst abruptly into the room.
Although it was scarcely noon, he was more than half
ADV£1«TUB£^ OF A GENTLEMAN. 229
iDtoxicated, and his eyes swam in his head with a maadliu
expression of triumph and insolence as he rolled towards
ns.
" Oh, oh I Sir Reginald," he said, "thought of giving
me the slip, eh ? Your d — d servants said you were out ;
but I soon silenced them. Egad, I made them as nimble
as cows in a cage — I have not learnt the use of my fists
for nothing. So, you're going abroad to-morrow ; without
my leave, too, — pretty good joke that, indeed. Come,
come, my brave fellow, you need not scowl at me in that
way. Why, you look as surly as a butcher's dog with a
broken head."
Glanville, who was livid with ill-suppressed rage, rose
haughtily'.
** Mr. Thornton," he said, in a calm voice, although he
was trembling in his extreme passion, from head to foot,
" I am not now prepared to submit to your insolence and
intrusion. Ton will leave this room instantly. If you
have any further demands upon me, I will hear them to-
night, at any hour you please to appoint."
** No, no, my fine fellow," said Thornton, with a coarse
chuckle ; " you have as much wit as three folks, — two
fools, and a madman I but you won't do me, for all that
The instant my back is turned, yours will be turned too ;
and by the time I call again, your honor will be*half-way
to Calais. But — bless my stars, Mr. Pelham, is that
you J I really did not see you before ; I suppose you are
not in the secret ? "
** I have no secrets from Mr. Pelham," said Glanville \
IL — 20
230 pelham; ob,
" nor do I care if you discuss the whole of your nefariona
transactions with me in his presence. Since you doubt ray
word, it is beneath my dignity to vindicate it, and your
business can as well be despatched now, as hereafter.
You have heard rightly, that I intend leaving England
to-morrow : and now, sir, what is your will ? "
'* By G— , Sir Reginald Glanville 1 " exclaimed Thorn-
ton, who seemed stung to the quick by Glauville's con-
temptuous coldness, '' you shall not leave England without
my ieave. Ay, you may frown, but I say you shall not ;
nay, you shall not budge a foot from this very room unless
I cry, 'Be it sol^"
Glanville could no longer restrain himself. He would
have sprung towards Thornton, but I seized and arrested
him. I read, in the malignant and incensed countenance
of his persecutor, all the danger to which a single impru-
dence would have exposed him, and I trembled for. his
safety.
I whispered, as I forced him again to his seat, '' Leave
me alone to settle with this man, and I will endeavor to
free you from him." I did not tarry for his answer, but
turning to Thornton, said to him coolly but civilly ; " Sir
Reginald Glanville has acquainted me with the nature of
your very extraordinary demands upon him. Did he
adopt my advice, he would immediately place the affair
in the hands of his legal advisers. His ill health, however,
his anxiety to leave England, and his wish to sacrifice
almost everything to quiet, induce him, rather than take
this alternative, to silence your importunities, by acceding
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 2BI
to claims, however illegal and unjust. If, therefore, you
now favor Sir Reginald with your visit, for the purpose
of making a demand previous to his quitting England,
and which, consequently, will be the last to which he will
concede, you will have the goodness to name the amount
of your claim, and should it be reasonable, I think Sir
Reginald will authorize me to say that it shall be granted."
" Well, now I " cried Thornton, " that's what I call
talking like a sensible man : and though I am not fond of
speaking to a third person, when the principal is present,
yet as you have always been very civil to me, I have
no objection to treating with you. Please to give Sir
Reginald this paper : if he will but take the trouble to
sign it, he may go to the Falls of Niagara for me 1 I won't
interrupt him — so he had better put pen to paper, and
get rid of me at once, for I know I am as welcome as
Buow in harvest."
I took the paper, which was folded up, and gave it to
Glanville, who leant back on his chair, half exhausted by
rage. He glanced his eye over it, and then tore it into
a thousand pieces, and trampled it beneath his feet:
" Go I " exclaimed he, " go, rascal, and do your worst I
I will not make myself a beggar to enrich you. My
whole fertune would but answer this demand."
" Do as you please. Sir Reginald," answered Thornton,
grinning, " do as you please. It's not a long walk from
hence to Bow-street, nor a long swing from Newgate to
the gallows ; do as you please. Sir Reginald, do as you
Dlease I " and the villain flung himself at full length on
2n
232 PEL HAM; OK,
the ottoman, and eyed Glanville's countenance with an
easy and malicious effrontery, which seemed to say, " I
know you will struggle, but you cannot help yourself."
I took Glauville aside: "My dear friend," said I,
" believe me, that I share your indignation to the utmost ;
but we must do anything rather than incense this wretch :
what is his demand ? "
"I speak literally," replied Glanville, "when I say,
that it covers nearly the whole of my fortune, except
such lands as are entailed upon the male heir ; for my
habits of extravagance have very much curtailed mj
means : it is the exact sum I had set apart, for a marriage
gift to my sister, in addition to her own fortune."
" Then," said I, " you shall give it him ; your sister
has no longer any necessity for a portion : her marriage
with me prevents that — and with regard to yourself, your
wants are not many — such as it is, you can share my
fortune."
"No — no — no I " cried Glanville; and his generous
nature lashing him into fresh rage, he broke from my
grasp, and moved menacingly to Thornton. That person
still lay on the ottoman, regarding us with an air half
contemptuous, half exulting.
" Leave the room instantly," said Glanville, *' or you
will repent itl"
" What I another murder, Sir Reginald I " said Thorn-
ton. " No, I am not a sparrow, to have my neck wrenched
by a woman's hand like yours. Give me my demand —
vign the paper, and I will leave you for ever and a day.**
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 233
"I will commit no such folly," answered Glanville.
" If you will accept five thousand pounds, you shall have
that sum ; but were the rope on my neck, you should not
wring from me a farthiug more I "
" Five thousand 1 " repeated Thornton ; " a mere drop
— a child's toy — why, you are playing with me, Sir
Reginald — nay, I am a reasonable man, and will abate
a trifle or so of my just claims, but you must not take
advantage of my good nature. Make me snug and easy
for life — let me keep a brace of hunters — a cosy box
— a bit of land to it, and a girl after my own heart, and
I'll say quits with you. Now, Mr. Pelham, who is a long-
headed gentleman, and does not spU on his own hlankety
knows well enough that one can't do all this for hve
thousand pounds; make it a thousand a year — that is,
give me a cool twenty thousand — and I won't exact
another sou. Egad, this drinking makes one denced thirsty
— Mr. Pelham, just reach me that glass of water — I hear
bees in my head/^^
Seeing that I did not stir, Thornton rose, with an oatk
against pride ; and swaggering towards the table, took
np a tumbler of water, which happened accidentally to
be there : close by it was the picture of the ill-fated
Gertrude. The gambler, who was evidently so intoxicated
as to be scarcely conscious of his motions or words
(otherwise, in all probability, he would, to borrow from
himself a proverb illustrative of his profession, have played
his cards better,) took up the portrait.
Glanville saw the action, and was by hia side in an
20*
234 pelham; ob,
instant. '* Touch it not with yonr accursed hands I ^' he
cried, in an ungovernable fury. " Leave your hold this
instant, or I will dash you to pieces."
Thornton kept a firm gripe of the picture. " Here's a
to-do 1 " said he, tauntingly : *' was there ever such work
about a poor (using a word too coarse for repetition)
before f "
The word had scarcely passed his lips, when he was
stretched at his full length upon the floor. Nor did
Qlanville stop there. With all the strength of his nervous
frame, fully requited for the debility of disease by the fury
of the moment, he seized the gamester as if he had been
an infant, and dragged him to the door : the next moment,
I heard his heavy frame rolling down the stairs with no
decorous slowness of descent.
Glanville re-appeared. " Good Heavens I '' I cried,
'* what have yon done ? " But he was too lost in his still
nnappeased rage to heed me. He leaned, panting and
breathless, against the wall, with clenched teeth, and a
flashing eye, rendered more terribly bright by the feverish
lustre natural to his disease.
Presently I heard Thornton re-ascend the stairs; he
opened the door, and entered but one pace. Never did
human face wear a more fiendish expression of malevo-
lence and wrath. " Sir Reginald Glanville," he said, " 1
thank you heartily. He must have iron nails who scratches
a bear. Yon have sent me a challenge, and the hang-
man shall bring you my answer. Good day. Sir Reginald
— good day, Mr. Pelham;" and so saying, he shut ♦he
\
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 235
door, dnd, rapidly descending the stairs, was out of the
house in an instant.
"There is no time to be lost," said I; "order post
horses to yonr carriage, and be gone instantly."
" You are wrong," replied Glanrille, slowly recoyering
himself. " I must not fly ; it would be worse than useless ;
it would seem the strongest argument against me. Re-
member that if Thornton has really gone to inform against
me, the oificers of justice would arrest me lohg before I
reached Calais ; or even if I did elude their pursuit so far,
I should be as much in their power in France as in Eng-
land : but, to tell you the truth, I do not think Thornton
vyill inform. Money, to a temper like his, is a stronger
temptation than revenge ; and before he has been three
minutes in the air, he will perceive the folly of losing the
golden harvest he may yet make of me, for the sake of a
momentary passion. No : my best plan will be to wait
here till to-morrow, as I originally intended. IvL the mean-
while he will, in all probability, pay me another visit, and
I will make a compromise with his demands."
Despite my fears, I could not but see the justice of these
observations, the more especially as a still stronger argu-
ment than any urged by Glanville, forced itself on my
mind ; this was my internal conviction, that Thornton
himself was guilty of the murder of Tyrrell, and that,
^Jierefore, he would, for his own sake, avoid the new and
particularizing scrutiny into that dreadful event, which
bis accusation of Glanville would necessarily occasion.
Both of as were wrong. Villains have passions as
23(k PBLHAM; OR,
well as honest men ; and they will, therefore, forfeit theif
own interest in obedience to those passions, while the
calculations of prudence in variably sappose that* interest
is their only rale.
Olanvilie was so enfeebled by his late excitement, that
he besought me once more to leave him to himself. I
did so, under a promise that he would admit me again in
the evening; for notwithstanding my persuasion that
Thornton Would not put his threats into e^cecution, I
could not conquer a latent foreboding of dread and evil.
CHAPTER LXXVIII.
Away with him to prison — where is the provost T
Meature for Measure.
I asTTTBNED homc, perplexed by a thousand contra*
dictory thoughts upon the scene I had just witnessed ; the
more I reflected, the more I regretted the fatality of the
circumstances that had tempted Glanville to accede to
Thornton's demand. True it was, that Thornton's self-
regard might be deemed a sufficient guarantee for his
concealment of such extortionate transactions : moreover,
it was difficult to say, when the formidable array of
appearances against Glanville was considered, whether
any other line of conduct than that which he had adopted,
eould, with safety, have been pursued.
His feelings, too, with regard to the unfortunate Ger-
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 237
trndep I coald fully enter into, and sympathize with ; ont»
in spite of all these considerations, it was with an inex-
pressible aversion that I contemplated the idea of that
tacit confession of guilt, which his compliance with Thorn-
ton's exactions so unhappily implied ; it was, therefore, a
thought of some satisfaction, that my rash and hasty
advice, of a still further concession to those exactions, had
not been acceded to. My present intention, in the event
of Glanville's persevering to reject my offer of accom-
panying him, was to remain in England, for the purpose of
sifting the murder ; nor did I despair of accomplishing
this most desirable end, tirrough the means of Dawson ;
for there was but little doubt in my own mind, that
Thornton aiid himself were the murderers, and I hoped
that address or intimidation might win a confession from
Dawson, although it might probably be unavailing with
his hardened and crafty associate.
Occupied with these thoughts, I endeavored to while
away the hours till the evening summoned me once more
to the principal object of my reflections. The instant
Glanville's door was opened, I saw, by one glance, that
I had come too late ; the whole house was in confusion ;
several of the servants were in the hall, conferring with
each other, with that mingled mystery and agitation which
always accompany the fears and conjectures of the lower
classes. I took aside the valet, who had lived with Glan-
ville for some years, and who was remarkably attached to
his master, and learned, that, somewhat more than an
loa*' before, Mr. Thornton had returned to the house,
238 PELHAM; ORy
accompanied by three men of very suspicious appearance.
"In short, sir," said the man, lowering his voice to a
whisper, " I knew one of them by sight ; he was Mr. S.,
the Bow-street officer ; with these men, Sir Reginald left
the house, merely saying, in his usual quiet manner, that
he did not know when he should return."
I concealed my perturbation, and endeavored, as far aa
I was able, to quiet the evident apprehensions of the
servant. "At all events, Seymour," said I, " I know that
I may trust you sufficiently to warn you against mention-
ing the circumstance any farther ; above all, let me beg
of you to stop the mouths of /those idle loiterers in the
hall — and be sure that you do not give any unnecessary
alarm to Lady and Miss Glanville."
The poor man promised, with tears in his eyes, that he
would obey my injunctions ; and, with a calm face, but a
sickening heart, I turned away from the house. I knew
not whither to direct my wanderings ; fortunately I re-
collected that I should, in all probability, be among the
first witnesses summoned on Glanville's examination, and
that perhaps, by the time I reached home, I might already
receive an intimation to that effect ; accordingly, I retraced
my steps, and, on re-entering my hotel, was told by the
waiter, with a mysterious air, that a gentleman was waiting
to see me. Seated by the window in my room, and wiping
his forehead with a red silk pocket-handkerchief, was a
short thickset man, with a fiery and rugose completion,
not altogether unlike the aspect of a mulberry : from
underneath a pair of shaggy brows peeped two singularly
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. i89
small eyes, which made ample amends, by their fite, for
their deficiency in size — they were black, brisk, and
somewhat fierce in their expression. A nose of that shape
vulgarly termed bottled, formed the " arch sublime," the
bridge, the twilight, as it were, between the purple sun-set
of one cheek, and the glowing sun-rise of the other. His
mouth was small, and drawn up at each corner, like a
purse — there was something sour and crabbed about it ;
if it was like a purse, it was the purse of a miser : a fair
round chin had not been condemned to single blessedness
' — on the contrary, it was like a farmer's pillion, and
carried double ; on either side of a very low forehead,
hedged round by closely mowed bristles of a dingy black,
was an ennrmous ear of the same intensely rubicund color
as that inflamed pendant of flesh which adorns the throat
of an enraged turkey-cock ; — ears so large, and so red,
1 never beheld before — they were something preposte-
rous I
This enchanting figure, which was attired in a sober
suit of leaden black, relieved by a long gold watch-chain,
and a plentiful decoration of seals, rose at my entrance with
a solemn grunt, and a still more solemn bow. I shut the
door carefully, and asked him his business. As I had
foreseen, it was a request from the magistrate at — ^, to
attend a private examination on the ensuing day.
"Sad thing, sir, sad thing," said Mr. ; "it would
be quite shocking to hang a gentleman of Sir Reginald
Glanville's quality — so distinguished an orator, too; sad
thing, sir, — verv sad thing."
240 PELHAM; OB,
" Oh I " said I, quietly, " there is not a doubt as to Sir
Reginald's innocence of the crime laid to him ; and,
probably, Mr. , I may call in your assistance to-
morrow, to ascertain the real murderers — I think I am
possessed of some clue.''
Mr. pricked up his ears — those enormous ears '
" Sir," he said, " I shall be happy to accompany you —
very happy ; give me the clue you speak of, and I will
soon find the villains. Horrid thing, sir, murder — very
horrid. It's too hard that a gentleman cannot take his
ride home from a race, or a merry-making, but he must
have his throat cut from ear to ear — ear to ear, sir ; "
and with these words, the speaker's own auricular pro-
tuberances seemed, as in conscious horror, to glow with a
double carnation.
'* Very true, Mr. I " said I ; "say I will certainly
attend the examination — till then, good by I " At this
hint, my fiery-faced friend made a low bow, and blazed
out of the room, like the ghost of a kitchen fire.
Left to myself, I revolved, earnestly and anxiously,
every circumstance that could tend to diminish the ap-
pearances against Glanville, and direct suspicion to that
quarter where I was confident the guilt rested. In this
endeavor I passed the time till morning, when I fell into
an uneasy slumber, which lasted some hours ; on waking,
it was almost time to attend the magistrate's appointment.
I dressed hastily, and soon found myself in the room of
inquisition.
It is impossible to conceive a more courteous, and yet
ADVENTURES OP A GENTLEMAN. 241
more equitable man, than the magistrate whom I had the
honor of attending. He spoke with great feeling on the
subject for which I was summoned — owned to me, that
Thornton's statement was very clear and forcible — trusted
that my evidence would contradict an account which be
was Tery loath to believe ; and then proceeded to the
question. I saw, with an agony which I can scarcely
express, that all my answers made powerfully against the
cause I endeavored to support. I was obliged to own
that a man on horseback passed me soon after Tyrrell
had quitted me ; that, on coming to the spot where the
deceased was found, I saw this same horseman on the
very place : that I believed, nay, that I was sure, (how
ould I evade this ?) that this man was Reginald Glanville.
Farther evidence, Thornton had already offered to
adduce. He could prove, that the said horseman had
been mounted on a grey horse, sold to a person answering
exactly to the description of Sir Reginald Glanville ;
moreover, that that horse was yet in the stables of the
prisoner. He produced a letter, which, he said, he had
found upotl the person of the deceased, signed by Sir
Reginald Glanville, and containing the most deadly threats
against Sir John TyrrelPs life ; and, to crown all, he
called upon me to witness, that we had both discovered
upon the spot where the murder was committed, a picture
belonging to the prisoner, since restored to him, and now
m his possession.
At the close of this examination, the worthy magistrate
shook his head, in evident distress ! " I have known Sir
fl. — 21
242 pelham; or,
Reginald Qlanville personally," said he : "in private as
in public life, I have always thought him the most upright
and honorable of men. I feel the greatest pain in saying,
tha*. it will be my duty fully to commit him for trial."
I interrupted the magistrate ; I demanded that Dawson
should be produced. " I have already," said he, " inquired
of Thornton respecting that person, whose testimony is
of evident importance ; he tells me that Dawson has lefb
the country, and can give me no clue of his address."
" He lies I " cried I, in the abrupt anguish of my heart ;
" his associate shall be produced. Hear me, I have been,
next to Thornton, the chief witness against the prisoner,
and when I swear to you, that, in spite of all appearances,
I most solemnly believe in his innocence, you may rely on
my assurance, that there are circumstances in his favor
which have not yet been considered, but which I will
pledge myself hereafter to adduce." I then related to
the private ear of the magistrate ray firm conviction of
the guilt of the accuser himself. I dwelt forcibly upon
he circumstance of Tyrrell's having mentioned to me
aat Thornton was aware of the large sum he had on his
person, and of the strange disappearance of that sum,
when his body was examined in the fatal field. After
noting how impossible it was that Glanville could have
stolen the money, I insisted strongly on the distressed
.circumstances — the dissolute habits, and the hardened
character, of Thornton — I recalled to the mind of the
magistrate the singularity of Thornton's absence from
Dome when I called there, and the doubtful nature of hig
ADVENTURES 0I> A GENTLEMAN. 243
excuse : much more I said, but all equally in vain. The
only point where I was saccessful, was in pressing for a
delay, which was granted to the passionate manner in
which I expressed my persaasion that I conld confirm my
suspicions by much stronger data before the reprieye
expired.
"It is very true," said the righteous magistrate, "that
there are appearances somewhat against the witness ; but
certainly not tantamount to anything above a slight sus-
picion. If, however, you positively think you can ascer-
tain any facts, to elucidate this mysterious crime, and
point the inquiries of justice to another quarter, I will
so far strain the question, as to remand the prisoner to
another day — let us say the day after to-morrow. If
nothing important can before then be found in his favor
he must be committed for trial"
CHAPTER LXXIX.
Nihil est faracius illo:
Non fait Autolyci tarn piceata man us. — Martial.
Qua t«noam vultas mutantem Protea nodo? — Hobat.
When I left the magistrate, I knew not whither my
next step should tend. There was, however, no time to
indulge the idle stupor which Glanville's situation at first
occasioned ; with a violent effort, I shook it off, and bent
244 pxlham; or,
ail my mind to discover the best method to avail myself,
to the utmost, of the short reprieve I had soceeeded in
obtaining. At length, one of those sudden thoughts
which, from their suddenness, appear more brilliant than
they really are, flashed upon my mind. I remembered the
accomplished character of Mr. Job Jonson, and the cir-
cumstance of my having seen him in company with Thorn-
ton. Now, although it was not very likely that Thornton
should have made Mr. Jonson his confidant, in any of
those affairs which it was so essentially his advantage to
confine exclusively to himself; yet the acuteness and
penetration visible in the character of the worthy Job,
might not have lain so fallow during his companionship
with Thornton, but that it might have made some dis-
coveries which would considerably assist me in my re-
searches ; besides, as it is literally true in the systematized
roguery of London, that " birds of a feathier flock toge-
ther," it was by no means unlikely that the honest Job
might be honored with the friendship of Mr. Dawson, as
well as the company of Mr. Thornton ; in which case I
looked forward with greater confidence to the detection
of the notable pair.
I could not, however, conceal from myself, that this was
but a very unstable and ill-linked chain of reasoning ; anr
there were moments, when the appearances against Glan
yOle wore so close a semblance of truth, that all my friend-
ship could scarcely drive from my mind an intrusive sus*
picion that he might have deceived me, and that the
accusation might not be groundless.
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 245
This unwelcome idea did not, however, at all lessen the
rapidity with which I hastened towards the memorable
gin-shop, where I had whilom met Mr. Gordon : there I
hoped to find either the address of that gentleman, or of
the " Club,'' to which he had taken me, in company with
Tringle and Dartmore : either at this said club, or of that
said gentleman, I thought it not unlikely that I might
hear some tidings of the person of Mr. Job Jonson — if
not, I was resolved to return to the office, and employ
Mr. , my mulberry-cheeked acquaintance of the last
night, in search after the holy Job.
Fate saved me a world of trouble : as I was hastily
walking onwards, I happened to turn my eyes on the
opposite side of the way, and discovered a man dressed
in what the newspapers term the very height of fashion,
viz. : in the most ostentatious attire that ever flaunted at
Margate, or blazed in the Palais Royal. The nether
garments of this petit-maitre consisted of a pair of blue
tight pantaloons, profusely braided, and terminating in
Hessian boots, adorned with brass spurs of the most bur-
nished resplendency; a black velvet waistcoat, studded
with gold stars, was Ixicked by a green frock coat, covered,
notwithstanding the heat of the weather, with fur, and
frogged and cordonni with the most lordly indiflFerence,
both as to taste and expense : a small French hat, which
might not have been much too large for my lord of ,
was set jauntily in the centre of a system of long black
curls, which my eye, long accustomed to penetrate the
arcana of habilatory art, discovered at once to be a wig.
21*
246 pelham; or
A fierce black mustachio, very much curled, wandered
lovingly from the upper lip towards the eyes, which had
an unfortunate prepossession for eccentricity in their
direction. To complete the picture, we must suppose
some coloring — and this consisted in a very nice and
delicate touch of the rouge pot, which cotild not be called
by so harsh a term as paint ; — say rather that it was a
tinge !
No sooner had I set my eyes upon this figure, than I
crossed over to the side of the way which it was adorn-
ing, and followed its motions at a respectful but observant
distance.
At length mj freluquet marched into a jeweller's shop
in Oxford street; with a careless air, I affected, two
minutes afterwards, to saunter into the same shop ; the
shopman was showing his bijouterie to him of the Hessians
with the greatest respect ; and, beguiled by the splendor
of the wig and waistcoat, turned me over to his appren-
tice. Another time, I might have been indignant at per-
ceiving that the air nobler on which I so much piqued
myself, was by no means so universally acknowledged as
I had vainly imagined : — at that moment I was too occu-
pied to think of my insulted dignity. While I was pre-
tending to appear wholly engrossed with some seals, I
kept a vigilant eye on my superb fellow-customer ; at last,
I saw him secrete a diamond ring, and thrust it, by a sin-
gular movement of the fore-finger, up the fur cuff of his
capacious sleeve ; presently, some other article of minute
size disappeared in the like manner
ADVENTURES OP A GENTLEMAN. 247
The gentleman then rose, expressed himself very well
Botisfied by the great taste of the jeweller, said he should
look in again on Saturday, when he hoped the set he had
ordered would be completed, and gravely took his de-
parture amidst the prodigal bows of the shopman and his
helpmates. Meanwhile, I bought a seal of small value,
and followed my old acquaintance, for the reader has
doubtless discovered, long before this, th&t the gentleman
was no other than Mr. Job Jonson.
Slowly and struttingly did the man of two virtues per-
form the whole pilgrimage of Oxford street. He stopped
at Cumberland-gate, and, looking round, witli an air of
gentlemanlike indecision, seemed to consider whether or
not he should join the loungers in the park : fortunately
for the well-bred set, his doubts terminated in their favor,
and Mr. Job Jonson entered the park. Every one hap-
pened to be thronging to Kensington Gardens, and the
man of two virtues accordingly cut across the park as. the
shortest, but the least frequented way thither, in order to
confer upon the seekers of pleasure the dangerous honor
of his company.
As soon as I perceived that there were but few persons
in the immediate locality to observe me, and that those
consisted of a tall guardsman and his wife, a family of
young children with their nursery-maid, and a debilitated
East India Captain, walking for the sake of his liver, I
overtook the incomparable Job, made him a low bow,
and thus reverently accosted him —
"Mr. Jonson, I am delighted once more to meet you-->
2o
248 pelham; or,
suffer me to remind you of the very pleasant morning I
passed with you in the neighborhood of Hampton Court.
I perceive, by your mustachios and military dress, that
you have entered the army, since that day ; I congratulate
the British troops on so admirable an acquisition."
Mr. Jonson's assurance forsook him for a moment, but
he lost no time in regaining a quality which was so natural
to his character. He assumed a fierce look, and, relevant
samousiachef souritamtrement, like Voltaire's governor. *
— " D — me, sir," he cried, " do you mean to insult me ?
I know none of your Mr. Jonsons, and I never set my
eyes upon you before."
"Lookye, my dear Mr. Job Jonson," replied I, " as I
can prove not only all I say, but much more that I shall
not say — such as your little mistakes just ijow, at the
jeweller's shop in Oxford street, &c. &c., perhaps it would
be better for you not to oblige me to create a mob, and
give you in charge — pardon my abruptness of speech —
to a constable! — Surely there will be no need of such a
disagreeable occurrence, when T assure you, in the first
place, that I perfectly forgive you for ridding me of the
unnecessary comforts of a pocket-book and handkerchief,
the unphilosophical appendage of a purse, and the effemi-
nate love-token of a gold locket ; nor is this all — it is
perfectly indifferent to me, whether you levy contributions
on jewellers or gentlemen, and I am very far from wishing
to intrude upon your harmless occupations, or to interfere
* Don Fernand d'Ibarra« in the <' Candide,**
ADYEKTUREB OF A OEMILEMAN. 249
with joar innocent amnsemcnts. I see, Mr. Jonson, that
yoa are beginning to understand me ; let me facilitate so
desirable an end by an additional information, that, since
it is preceded with a promise to open my purse, may tend
somewhat to open your heart ; I am at this moment in
great want of yonr assistance — favor me with it, and I
will pay you to your soul's content Are we friends now,
Mr. Job Jonson ? "
My old friend burst out into a loud laugh. ** Well, isir,
I must say that your frankness enchants me. 1 can no
longer dissemble with you ; indeed, I perceive it would be
useless ; besides, I always adored candor — it is my favorite
virtue. Tell me how I can help you, and you may com-
mand my services."
" One word," said I : " will you be open and ingenuous
with me ? I shall ask you certain questions, not in the
least affecting your own safety, but to which, if you would
serve me, you must give me (and, since candor is your
favorite virtue, this will be no difficult task) your most
candid replies. To strengthen you in so righteous a course,
know also that the said replies will come verbatim before
a court of law, and that, therefore, it will be a matter of
prudence to shape them as closely to the truth as your
inclinations will allow. To counterbalance this informa-
tion, which, I own, is not very inviting, I repeat that the
questions asked you will be wholly foreign to your own
affairs, and that, should you prove of that assistance to
me which I anticipate, I will so testify my gratitude aa
to place yon beyond the necessity of pillaging rural young
850 pelham; or,
gentlemen and credalous shopkeepers for the fatare ; — •
all yoar present pursuits need thenceforth only be carried
on for your private amusement."
''I repeat, that you may command me," returned Mr
Jonson, gracefully putting his hand to his heart.
" Pray then," said I, " to come at once to the point,
how long have you been acquainted with Mr. Thomas
Thornton ? "
''For some months only," returned Job, without the
least embarrassment.
"And Mr. Dawson ? " said I.
A slight change came over Jonson's countenance ; he
hesitated. " Excuse me, sir," said he ; " but I am, really,
perfectly unacquainted with you, and I may be falling
into some trap of the law, of which, Heaven knows, I
am as ignorant as a babe unborn."
I saw the knavish justice of this remark: and* in my
predominating zeal to serve Glanville, I looked upon the
inconvenience of discovering myself to a pickpocket and
sharper, as a consideration not worth attending to. In
order, therefore, to remove his doubts, and, at the same
time, to have a more secret and undisturbed place for our
conference, I proposed to him to accompany me home.
At first, Mr. Jonson demurred, but I soon half- persuaded
and half-intimidated him into compliance.
Not particularly liking to be publicly seen with a per-
son of his splendid description and celebrated character,
I made him walk before me to Mivart's, and I followed
him closely, never turning my eye either to tht right or
ADVENTURE8 OIT A GENTLEMAN. 251
left, lest he should endeavor to escape me. There was
no fear of this, for Mr. Jonson was both a bold and a
crafty man, and it required, perhaps, but little of his
penetration to discover that I was no officer nor informer,
and that my communication had been of a nature likely
enough to terminate in his advantage ; there was, there-
fore, but little need of his courage in accompanying me
to my hotel.
There were a good many foreigners of rank at Mivart's,
and the waiters took my companion fortin ambassador at
least : — he received their homage with the mingled dignity
and condescension natural to so great a man.
As the day was now far advanced, I deemed it but hos
pitable to offer Mr. Job Jonson some edible refreshment.
With the frankness on which he so justly valued himself,
he accepted my proposal. I ordered some cold meat and
two bottles of wine ; and, mindful of old maxims, deferred
my business till his repast was over. I conversed with
him merely upon ordinary topics, and, at another time,
should have been much amused by the singular mixture
of impudence and shrewdness which formed the stratum
of his character.
At length his appetite was satisfied, and one of the
bottles emptied; with the other before him, his body
easily reclining on my library chair, his eyes apparently
cast downwards, but ever and anon glancing up at my
countenance with a searching and curious look, Mr. Job
Jonson prepared himself for our conference ; accordingly
I began : —
^52 pelham; oa,
" You say that yon are acquainted with Mr. Dawson ;
where is he at present?"
"I don't know," answered Jonson, laconically.
"Come," said I, "no trifling — if you do not know,
you can learn."
" Possibly I can, in the course of time," rejoined honest
Job.
"If you cannot tell me his residence at once," said I,
" our conference is at an end ; that is a leading feature in
my inquiries."
Jonson paused before he replied — " You have spokeu
to me frankly ; let us do nothing by halves — tell me, at
once, the nature of the service I can do you, and the
amount of my reward, and then you shall have my an-
swer. With respect to Dawson, I will confess to yoti
that I did once know him well, and that we have done
many a mad prank together, which I should not like the
bugaboos and bulkies to know ; you will, therefore, see
that I am naturally reluctant to tell you anything about
him, unless your honor will infbrm me of the why and
the wherefore."
I was somewhat startled by this speech, and by the
shrewd, cunning eye which dwelt upon me as it was
uttered ; but, however, I was by no means sure that ac-
ceding to his proposal would not be my readiest and
wisest way to the object I had in view. Nevertheless,
there were some preliminary questions to be got over
6rst : perhaps Dawson might be too dear a friend to the
candid Job, for the latter to endanger his safety ; or per^
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 253
haps (and this was more probable) Jonson might be per-
fectly ignorant of anything likely to aid me ; in this case
my communication would be useless ; accordingly I said,
after a short consideration —
"Patience, my dear Mr. Jonson — patience ; you shall
know all in good time ; meanwhile I must — even for
Dawson's sake — question yon blindfold. What, now, if
your poor friend Dawson were in imminent danger, and
you had, if it so pleased you, the power to save him ;
would you not do all you could ?**
The small, coarse features of Mr. Job grew blank with
a curious sort of disappointment : ** Is that all ? " said
he. " Ko 1 unless I were well paid for my pains in his
behalf, he might go to Botany Bay, for all I care."
"What ! " I cried, in a tone of reproach, "is this your
friendship ? I thought, just now, that you said Dawson
had been an old and firm associate of yours."
"An old one, your honor but not a firm one. A short
time ago, I was in great distress, and he and Thornton
had, deuce knows howl about two thousand between
them ; but I could not worm a stiver out of Dawson —
that gripe-all, Thornton, got it all from him."
"Two thousand pounds I" said I, in a calm voice,
though my heart beat violently, " that 's a great sum for
a poor fellow like Dawson. How long ago is it since he
had it?"
"About two or three months," answered Jonson.
"Pray," I asked, "have you seen much of Dawson
lately ? "
II. — 22
i54 pelham; or,
** I have," replied Jonson.
" Indeed I '* said I. " I thought you told me, just now,
that yon were unacquainted with his residence ? "
"So I am," replied Jonson, coldly; "it is not at his
own house that I ever see him."
I was silent, for I was now rapidly and minutely weigh-
ing the benefits and disadvantages of trusting Jonson aa
he had desired ne to do.
To reduce the question to the simplest form of logic,
he had either the power of assisting my investigation, or
he had not ; if not, neither could he much impede it, and,
therefore, it mattered little whether he was in my confi-
dence or not ; if he had the power, the doubt was, whether
it would be better for me to benefit by it openly, or by
stratagem; that is — whether it were wiser to state the
whole case to him, or continue to gain whatever I was
able by dint of a blind examination. Now, the disad-
vantage of candor was, that if it were his wish to screen
Dawson and his friend, he would be prepared to do so,
and even to put them on their guard against my suspi-
cions ; but the indifference he had testified with regard
to Dawson seemed to render this probability very small.
The benefits of candor were more prominent : Job would
then be fully aware that his own safety was not at stake ;
and should I make it more his interest to serve the inno-
cent than the guilty,* I should have the entire advantage,
not only of any actual information he might possess, but
of his skill and shrewdness in providing additional proof,
or at least suggesting advantageous hints. Moreover, in
ADVENT UREB OF A GENTLEMAN 255
spite of my vanity and opinion of my own penetration, I
could not bat confess that it was unlikely that my cross
examination would be very successful with so old and
experienced a sinner as Mr. Jonson. ** §et a thief to
catch a thief," is among the wisest of wise sayings, and
accordingly I resolved in favor of a disclosure.
Drawing my chair close to Jonson's, and fixing my
eye upon his countenance, I briefly proceeded to sketch
Glanville's situation (only concealing his name) and
Thornton's charges. I mentioned my own suspicions of
the accuser, and my desire of discovering Dawson, whom
Thornton appeared to me artfully to secrete. Lastly, I
concluded with a solemn promise, that if my listener could,
by any zeal, exertion, knowledge, or contrivance of his
own, procure the detection of the men who, I was con-
vinced, were the murderers, a pension of three hundred
pounds a year should be immediately settled upon him.
During my communication, the patient Job sat mute
and still, fixing his eyes on the ground, and only betray-
ing, by an occasional elevation of the brows, that he took
the slightest interest in the tale : when, however, I touched
upon the peroration, which so tenderly concluded with the
mention of three hundred pounds a year, a visible change
came over the countenance of Mr. Jonson. He rubbed
his hands with an air of great content, and one sudden
smile broke over his features, and almost buried his eves
amid the intricate host of wrinkles which it called forth :
the smile vanished as rapidly as it came, and Mr. Job
turned round to me with a solemn and sedate aspect.
2^6 pelham; or,
'* Well, your honor," said he, " I 'm glad you 've told
me all : we must see what can be done. As for Thorn-
ton, I 'm afraid we sha 'n't make much out of him, for
he's an old offender, whose conscience is as hard as a
brickbat ; but of Dawson I hope better things. How-
ever, you must let me go now, for this is a matter that
requires a vast deal of private consideration. I shall call
upon you to-morrow, sir, before ten o'clock, since you
say matters are so pressing ; and I trust you will then
see that yon have no reason to repent of the confidence
you have placed in a man of honor,"
So saying, Mr. Job Jonson emptied the remainder of
the bottle into his tumbler, he]d it up to the light with
the gusto of a connoisseur, and concluded his potations
with a hearty smack of the lips, followed by a long sigh.
**Ah, your honor," said he, " good wine is a marvellous
whetter of the intellect; but your true philosopher is
always moderate : for my part, I never exceed my two
bottles."
And with these words, this true philosopher took his
departure.
No sooner was I freed from his presence, than my
thoughts flew to Ellen ; I had neither been able to call
nor write the whole of the day ; and I was painfully fear-
ful lest my precaution with Sir Reginald's valet had been
frustrated, andthe alarm of his imprisonment had reached
her and Lady Glanville. Harassed by this fear, I disre-
garded the lateness of the hour, and immediately repaired
to Berkeley-square.
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 257
Lady and Miss Glanville were alone and at dinner:
the servant spoke with his usual unconcern. " They are
quite well ? '' said I, relieved, but still anxious : and the
servant replying in the affirmative, I again returned
home, and wrote a long and, I hope, consoling letter to
Sir Reginald.
CHAPTER LXXX.
K, Henry. Lord Say, Jack Cade hath sworn to have thy head.
Say Ay, but I hope your Highness shall have his.
Second Pari of Henry IV,
Punctual to his appointment, the next morning came
Mr. Job Jonson. I had been on the rack of expectation
for the last three hours previous to his arrival, and the
warmth of my welcome must have removed any little
diffidence with which so shamefaced a gentleman might
possibly have been troubled.
At my request, he sat himself down, and seeing that
my breakfast things were on the table, remarked what a
famous appetite the fresh air always gave him. I took
the hint, and pushed the rolls towards him. He imme-
diately fell to work, and, for the next quarter of an hour,
his mouth was far too well occupied for the intrusive im-
pertinence of words. At last the things were removed
and Mr. Jonson began.
" I have thought well over the matter, your honor, and
22*
258 pelham; ok,
I believe we can manage to trounce the rascals — for I
agree with you, that there is not a doubt that Thornton
and Dawson are the real criminals ; but the affair, sir, is
one of the greatest difficulty and importance — nay, of
the greatest personal danger. My life may be the forfeit
of my desire to serve yOu — you will not, therefore, be
surprised at my accepting your liberal offer of three hun-
dred a year, should I be successful ; although I do assure
you, sir, that it was my original intention to reject all re-
compense, for I am naturally benevolent, and love doing
a good action. Indeed, sir, if I were alone in the world,
I should scorn any remuneration, for virtue is its own
reward ; but a real moralist, your honor, must not forget
his duties on any consideration, and I have a little family
to whom my loss would be an irreparable injury; this,
upon my honor, is my only inducement for taking advan-
tage of your generosity ; " and, as the moralist ceased,
he took out of his waistcoat pocket a paper, which he
handed to me with his usual bow of deference.
I glanced over it — it was a bond, apparently drawn up
in all the legal formalities, pledging myself, in case Job
Jonson, before the expiration of three days, gave that
information which should lead to the detection and pun-
ishment of the true murderers of Sir John Tyrrell, de-
ceased, to insure to the said Job Jonson the yearly an-
nuity of three hundred pounds.
'' It is with much pleasure that I shall sign this paper,"
said I ; " but allow me, par parentJidsef to observe that
Bi'»ce you only accept the annuity for the sake of ' vie-
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 25^
fiting your little family, in case of your death, this an-
nuity, ceasing with your life, will leave your children as
penniless as at present."
"Pardon me, your honor," rejoined Job, not a whit
daunted at the truth of my remark, "J can insure ! "
" I forgot that," said I, signing and restoring the paper :
"and now to business."
Jonson gravely and carefully looked over the interest-
ing document I returned to him, and carefully lapping it
in three envelopes, inserted it in a huge red pocket-book,
which he thrust into an innermost pocket in his waistcoat.
" Right, sir," said he, slowly; ** to business. Before I
begin, you must, however, promise me, upon your honor
as a gentleman, the strictest secrecy as to my communi-
cations."
I readily agreed to this, so far as that secrecy did not
impede my present object ; and Job, being content with
this condition, resumed.
** You must forgive me, if, in order fo arrive at the
point in question, I set out from one which may seem to
you a little distant."
I nodded my assent, and Job continued.
*' I have known Dawson for some years ; my acquaint-
ance with him commenced at Newmarket, for I have
always had a slight tendency to the turf. He was a
wild, foolish fellow, easily led into any mischief, but ever
the first to sneak out of it ; in short, when he became
one of uHf which his extravagance soon compelled him
to do, we considered him as a very serviceable tool, but
260 PELHAM; OR,
one who, while he was qaite wicked enough to begin a
bad action, was much too weak to go through with it ;
accordingly he was often employed, but never truste^
By the word t/«, which I see has excited your curiosity,
I merely mean a body corporate, established furtively and
restricted solely to exploits on the turf. I think it right
to mention this (continued Mr. Jonson, aristocratically),
because I have the honor to belong to many other socie-
ties to which Dawson could never have been admitted.
Well, sir, our club was at last broken up, and Dawson
was left to shift for himself. His father was still alive,
and the young hopeful, having quarrelled with him, was
in the greatest distress. He came to me with a pitiM
story, and a more pitiful face ; so I took compassion upon
the poor devil, and procured him, by dint of great inter- .
est, admission into a knot of good fellows, whom I visited,
by the way, last night. Here I took him under my espe-
cial care ; and, as far as I could, with such a dull- headed
dromedary, taught him some of the most elegant arts of
my profession. However, the ungrateful dog soon stole
back to his old courses, and robbed me of half ray share
of a booty to which I had helped him myself. I hate
treachery and ingratitude, your honor ; they are ^o ter-
ribly un gentlemanlike I
" I then lost sight of him till between two and threo
months ago, when he returned to town and attended our
meetings in company with Tom Thornton, who had been
chosen a member of the club some months before. Since
wo had met Dawson's father had died, and I thought hi«
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 261
fla&h appearance in town arose from his new inheritance.
1 was mistaken : old Dawson had tied up the property
80 tightly, that the yonng one could not scrape enough
to pay his debts ; accordingly, before he came to town
he gave up his life interest in the property to his credi-
tors. However that be, Master Dawson seemed at the
top of Fortune's wheel. He kept his horses, and sported
the set to champagne and venison : in short, there would
have been no»end to his extravagance, had not Thornton
sucked him like a leech.
'' It was about that time that I asked Dawson for a
trifle to keep me from gaol : for I was ill in bed, and
could not help myself. Will you believe, sir, that the
rascal told mjB to go and be d— d, and Thornton said
amen ? I did not forget the ingratitude of my prot^g^,
though when I recovered I appeared entirely to do so.
No sooner could I walk about, than I relieved all my
necessities. He is but a fool who starves, with all Lon*.
don before him I In proportion as my finances improved,
Dawson's visibly decayed. With them, decreased also
his spirits. He became pensive and downcast; never
joined any of our parties, and gradually grew quite a
useless member of the corporation. To add to his mel-
ancholy, he was one morning present at the execution Df
an unfortunate associate of ours ; this made a deep im-
pression upon him ; from that moment he became thor-
oughly moody and despondent. He was frequently heard
talking to himself, could not endure to be left alone in
the dark, and began rapidly to pine away.
262 pelham; or,
" One night when he and I were seated together, he
asked me if I never repented of my sins, and then added,
with a groan, that I had never committed the heinons
crime he had. I pressed him to confess, bat he wonld
not. However, I coupled that half avowal with his sad-
den riches, and the mysterious circumstances of Sir John
Tyrrell's death ; and dark suspicions came into my mind.
At that time, and indeed ever since Dawson reappeared,
we were often in the habit of discussing the notorious
murder which then engrossed public attention ; and as
Dawson and Thornton had been witnesses on the inquest,
we frequently referred to them respecting it. Dawson
always turned pale, and avoided the subject ; Thornton,
on the contrary, brazened it out with his nsual impudence.
Dawson's aversion to the mention of the murder now
rame into my remembrance with double weight, to
strengthen my suspicions ; and, on conversing with one
or ♦.wo of our comrades, I found that my doubts were
more than shared, and that Dawson had frequently, when
unusually oppressed with his hypochondria, hinted at his
committal of some dreadfal crime, and at his unceasing
remorse for it.
"By degrees, Dawson grew worse and worse — his
health decayed, he started at a shadow — drank deeply,
and spoke, in his intoxication, words that made the hairs
of our green men stand on end.
" * We must not suffer this,' said Thornton, whose hardy
effrontery enabled him to lord it over the jolly boys as if
ae were their chief: 'his ravings and humdurcceon will
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 26&
unman all our youngsters.' And so, under this pretence,
Thornton had the unhappy man conveyed away to a se-
cret asylum, known only to the chiefs of the gang, and
appropriated to the reception of persons who, from the
same weakness as Dawson, were likely to endanger others
or themselves. There many a poor wretch has been se-
cretly immured, and never suffered to revisit the light of
Heaven. The moon's minions, as well as the monarch's,
must have their State prisoners, and their State victims.
" Well, sir, I shall not detain you much longer. Last
night, after your obliging confidence, I repaired to the
meeting ; Thornton was there, and very much out of
humor. When our messmates dropped off, and we were
alone at one corner of the room, I began talking to him
carelessly about his accusation of your friend, who, I have
since learnt, is Sir Reginald Glanville — an old friend of
mine, too ; ay, you may look, sir, — but I can stake my
life to having picked his pocket one night at the Opera I
Thornton was greatly surprised at my early intelligence
of a fact hitherto kept so profound a secret ; however, I
explained it away by a boast of my skill in acquiring in-
formation ; and he then incautiously let out, that he was
exceedingly vexed with himself for the charge he had
made against the prisoner, and very uneasy at the urgent
inquiries set on foot for Dawson. Mor6 and more con-
vinced of his guilt, I quitted the meeting, and went to
Dawson's retreat.
" For fear of his escape, Thornton had had him closely
confined in one of the most secret rooms in the house.
2p
266 peluam; ob,
not without great diflBculty, and some danger ; for I bare
not only to impose you upon Dawson as a priest, but also
upon Brimstone Bess as one of our jolly boys ; since I
need not tell you that any real parson might knock a long
time at her door before it would be opened to him. You
must, therefore, be as mum as a mole unless she cants tc
you, and your answers must then be such as I shall die
tate ; otherwise she may detect you, and, should any ot
the true men be in the house, we should both come ofi
worse than we went in."
"My dear Mr. Job," replied I, "there appears to me
to be a much easier plan than all this ; and that is, simply
to tell the Bow-street officers where Dawson may be found,
and I think they would be able to carry him away from
the arms of Mrs. Brimstone Bess, without any great diffi-
eulty or danger."
Jonson smiled.
" I should not long enjoy my annuity, your honor, if I
Arere.to set the runners upon our best hive. I should be
^tung to death before the week were out. Even you,
should you accompany me to-night, will never know wher«
the spot is situated, nor would you discover it again if
yon searched all London, with the whole police at your
back. Besides, Dawson is not the only person in the
house for whom the law is hunting — there are a score
others whom I have no desire to give up to the gallows —
hid among the odds and ends of the house, as snug as
plums in a pudding. Honor forbid that I should betray
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 261
them — and for nothing too ! No, sir, the only plan I can
think of is the one I proposed ; if you do not approve of
it, (and it certainly is open to exception,) I must devise
some other: but that may require delay."
"No, my good Job," replied I, " I am ready to attend
you : but could we not tnanage to release Dawson, as well
as take his deposition ? — his personal evidence is worth
all the written ones in the world."
"Very true," answered Job, ."and if it be possible to
give Bess the slip we will. However, let us not lose what
we may get by grasping at what we may not ; let us have
the confession first, and we '11 try for the release after-
wards. I have another reason for this, sir, which, if you
knew as much of penitent prigs as I do, you would easily
understand. However, it may be explained by the old
proverb of 'the devil was sick,' &c. As long as Dawson
is stowed away in a dark hole and fancies devils in every
corner, he may be very anxious to make confessions, which,
in broad day-light, « may not seem to him so desirable.
Darkness and solitude are strange stimulants to the con-
science, and* we may as well not lose any advantage they
give us."
" You are an admirable reasoner," cried I, " and I am
impatient to accompany you — at what hour shall it be ? "
" Not much before midnight," answered Jonson ; " but
your honor must go back to school and learn lessons be«
fore then. Suppose Bess were to address you thus : * Well,
you parish bull prig, are you for lushing jackey, or patter
268 pelham; ok,
ing in the hum box 1 ' ♦ I '11 be bound you would not
know how to answer."
" I am afraid you are right, Mr. Jonson," said I, in a
tone of self-humiliation.
"Never mind," replied the compassionate Job, "we
are all born ignorant — knowledge is not learnt in a day.
A few of the most common and necessary words in our
St. Giles's Greek, I shall be able to teach you before
night ; and I will, beforehand, prepare the old lady for
seeing a young hand in the profession. As I must dis-
guise you before we go, and that cannot well be done
here, suppose you dine with me at my lodgings."
"I shall be too happy," said I, not a little surprised at
the offer.
" I am in Charlotte street, Bloomsbury, No. — You
must ask for me by the name of Captain De Courcy,"
said Job, with dignity : " and we '11 dine at five, in order
to have time for your preliminary initiation."
" With all my heart," said I ; and Mr. Job Jonson then
rose, and, reminding me of my promise of secrecy, took
his departure.
* ** Well, you parson thief, are you for drinking gin, or telking
^ the pnlnit ? "
ADVENTURES OP A GENTLEMAN. 269
CHAPTER LXXXI.
Pectus prsBoeptis format amiois. — Hob.
Est quodam prodire tenus, si non datar ultra. — Hid.
With all my love of enterprise and adventure, I cannot
say that I should have particularly chosen the project
before me for my evening's amusement, had I been left
solely to my own will ; but Glanville's situation forbade
me to think of self: and, so far from shrinking at the
danger to which I was about to be exposed, I looked for-
ward with the utmost impatience to the hour of rejoining
Jonson.
There was yet a long time upon my hands before five
o'clock ; and the thought of Ellen left me no doubt how
it should be passed. I went to Berkeley-square : Lady
Glanville rose eagerly when I entered the drawing-room.
'' Have you seen Reginald ? " said she, " or do you
know where he has gone 7 "
I answered, carelessly, that he had left town for a few
days, and, I believe, merely upon a vague excursion, for
the benefit of the country air.
"You reassure us," said Lady Glanville; "we have
been quite alarmed by Seymour's manner. He appeared
so confused when he told us Reginald had left town, that
I really thought some accident had happened to him."
23*
270 pelham; or
1 sate myself by Ellen, who appeared wholly oocupied
in the formation of a purse. While I was whispering
into her ear words which brought a thousand blushes to
her cheek, Lady Glanville interrupted me, by an exclama-
tion of " have you seen the papers to-day, Mr. Pelham ? "
and on my reply in the negative, she pointed to an article
in the Morning Herald, which she said had occupied their
conjectures all the morning — it ran thus : —
" The evening before last, a person of rank and celeb-
* ty was privately carried before the Magistrate at .
Since then, he has undergone an examination, the nature
of which, as well as the name of the individual, is as yet
kept a profound secret."
I believe that I have so firm a command oyer my coun-
tenance, that I should not change tint nor muscle, to hear
of the greatest calamity that could happen to me. I did
not therefore betray a single one of the emotions this
paragraph excited within me, but appeared, on the con-
trary, as much at a loss as Lady Glanville, and wondered
aud guessed with her, till she remembered my present
situation in the family, and left me alone with Ellen.
Why should the tSte-d-tete of lovers be so uninteresting
to the world, when there is scarcely a being in it who has
not loved ? The expressions of every other feeling come
home to us all — the expressions of love weary and fatigue
as. But the interview of that morning was far from re-
sembling those delicious meetings wnich the history of
love at that early period of its existence so often delineates.
I could not give myself up to happiness which a momeni
ADVENTUEES OP A GENTLEMAN. 271
might destroy : and though I veiled my anxiety and cold
ness from Ellen, I felt it as a crime to indulge even the
appearance of transport, while Glanville lay alone and in
prison, with the charge of murder yet uncontroverted, and
the chances of its doom undiminished.
The clock had struck four before I left Ellen, and with-
out returning to my hotel, I threw myself into a hackney-
coach, and drove to Charlotte-street. The worthy Job
received me with his wonted dignity and ease ; his lodg-
ings consisted of a first floor, furnished according to all
the notions of Bloomsbury elegance — viz., new, glaring
Brussels carpeting; convex mirrors, with massy gilt
frames, and eagles at the summit ; rosewood chairs, with
chintz cushions ; bright grates, with a flower-pot, cut out
of yellow paper, in each ; in short, all that especial neat-
ness of upholstering paraphernalia, which Vincent used,
not inaptly, to designate by the title of " the tea-chest
taste." Jonson seemed not a little proud of his apart-
ments— accordingly, I complimented him upon their
elegance.
" Under the rose be it spoken," said he, " the landlady,
who is a widow, believes me to be an officer on half-pay,
and thinks I wish to marry her ; poor woman ! my black
iDcks and green coat have a witchery that surprises even
me : who would be a slovenly thief, when there are such
advantages in being a smart one ? '
" Right, Mr. Jonson I " said I ; " but shall I own to
you that I am surprised that a gentleman of your talents
should stoop to the lower arts of the profession. I alwayi
273 pelham; or,
imagined that pocket-picking was a part of yonr business
left only to the plebeian purloin er ; now I know, to my
cost, that yon do not disdain that mannal accomplish^
ment."
"Tour honor speaks like a judge," answered Job;
" the fact is, that I should despise what you rightly de-
signate * the lower arts of the profession,' if I did not
value myself upon giving them a charm, and investing
them with a dignity, never bestowed upon them before.
To give you an idea of the superior dexterity with which
I manage my sleight of hand, know, that four times I
have been in that shop where you saw me borrow the
diamond ring, which you now remark upon my little
finger ; and four times have I brought back some token
of my visitations ; nay, the shopman is so far from sus-
pecting me, that he has twice favored me with the piteous
tale of the very losses I myself brought upon him ; and
I make no doubt that I shall hear, in a few days, the
whole history of the departed diamond, now in my keep-
ing, coupled with that of your honoris appearance and
custom I Allow that it would be a pity to suffer pride
'o stand in the way of the talents with which Providence
has blessed me ; to scorn the little delicacies of art, which
I execute so well, would, in my opinion, be as absurd us
for an epic poet to disdain the composition of a perfect
epigram, or a consummate musician the melody of a fault-
less song."
"Bravo 1 Mr. Job," said I ; "a truly great man, you
see, can confer honor upon trifles." More I might hav«
ADVENTUEES OP A GENTLEMAN. 2T3
said, but was stopped short by the entrance of the land-
lady, who was a fine, fair, well-dressed, comely woman^
of about thirty-nine years and eleven months ; or, to speak
less precisely, between thirty and forty. She came t^
announce that dinner was served below. We descended,
and found a sumptuous repast of roast beef and fish ; this
primary course was succeeded by that great dainty with
common people — a duck and green peas.
"Upon my word, Mr. Jonson," said I, "you fare like
a prince ; your weekly expenditure must be pretty con-
siderable for a single gentleman."
" I do n't know," answered Jonson, with an air of lordly
indifference — "I have never paid my good hostess any
coin but compliments, and in all probability never shall."
Was there ever a better illustration of Moore's admo-
nition —
<0 ladies, beware of a* gay young knight,' &c.
After dinner we remounted to the apartments Job em-
phatically called his own ; and he then proceeded to ini-
tiate me in those phrases of the noble language of
" Flash " which might best serve my necessities on the
approaching occasion. The slang part of my Cambridge
education had made me acquainted with some little ele«
mentary knowledge, which rendered Jonson's precepts
less strange and abstruse. In this lecture "sweet and
holy," the hours passed away till it became time for me
to dress. Mr. Jonson then took.me into the penetralia
of his bed-room. I stumbled against an enormous trunk.
On hearing the involuntary anathema which this accident
274 PELHAM; OB,
conjared up to my lips, Jonson said — "Ah, sir I — do ob*
lige me by trying to move that box."
I did so, but could not stir it an inch.
"Your honor never saw a jewel box so heavy before, I
think," said Jonson, with a smile.
"A jewel box ! "
"Yes," returned Jonson — "a jewel box, for it is fuR
z* precious stones! When I go away — no^ a little in
my good landlady's books — I shall desire her, very im-
portantly, to take the greatest care of *my box.^ Egad I
it would be a treasure to MacAdam ; he might pound its
flinty contents into a street. "
With these words, Mr. Jonson unlocked a wardrobe in
the room, and produced a full suit of rusty black.
" There 1 " said he, with an air of satisfaction-^" there I
chis will be your first step to the pulpit."
I doffed my own attire, and with " some natural sighs"
at the deformity of my approaching metamorphosis, I
slowly indued myself in the clerical garments ; they were
much too wide, and a little too short for me ; but Jonson
turned me round as if I were his eldest son, breeched for
the first time, and declared, with an emphatical oath, that
the clothes fitted me to a hair.
My host next opened a tin dressing-box of large di-
mensions, from which he took sundry powders, lotions,
and paints. Nothing but my extreme friendship for QIan-
ville could ever have supported me through the operation
I then underwent. My poor complexion, thought I, with
tears in my eyes, it is ruined forever 1 To crown all —
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 2*75
Jonson robbed me, by four clips of his scissors, of ths
Inxoriant locks which, from the pampered indalgence so
long accorded to them, might have rebelled against the
new dynasty which Jonson now elected to the crown.
This dynasty consisted of a shaggy but admirably made
wig, of a sandy color. When I was thus completely at-
tired from head to foot, Job displayed me to myself be-
fore a full-length looking-glass.
Had I gazed at the reflection forever, I should not
have recognized either my form or visage. I Ijiought my
soul had undergone a real transmigration, and not carried
to its new body a particle of the original one. What
appeared the most singular was, that I did not seem even
to myself at all a ridiculous or outr^ figure ; so admirably
had the skill of Mr. Jonson been employed. I over-
whelmed him with encomiums, which he took au piea de
la letlre, Never, indeed, was there a man so vain of being
a rogue.
" But," said I, ** why this disguise ? Your friends will,
probably, be well versed enough in the mysteries of meta-
morphosis, to see even through your arts ; and, as they
have never beheld me before, it would very little matter
if I went in propria persond.^^
"True," answered Job, "but you don't reflect that
without disguise you may hereafter be recognized ; our
friends walk in Bond-street as well as your honor ; and,
in that case, you might be shot without a second, as the
Baying is."
"You have convinced me, said I ; "and now, before
2T6 PBLHAM; OR,
we start, let me say one word further respecting out
object, I tell yoQ> fairly, that I think Dawson's written
deposition but a secondary point : and for this reason,
should it not be supported by any circumstantial or local
evidence, hereafter to be ascertained, it may be quite in-
sufficient fully to acquit Glanville (in spite of all appear-
ances), and criminate the real murderers. If, therefore,
it be possible to carry off Dawson, after having secured
bis confession, we must. I think it right to insist more
particularly on this point, as you appeared to me rather
averse to it this morning."
"I say ditto to your honor," returned Job; "and you
may be sure that I shall do all in my power to effect your
object, not only from that love of virtue which is im-
planted in my mind, when no stronger inducement leads
me astray, but from the more worldly reminiscence, that
the annuity we have agreed upon is only to be given in
case of success — not merely for well-meaning attempts.
To say that I have no objection to the release of Dawson,
would be to deceive your honor, — I own that I have, —
and the objection is, first, my fear lest he should peach
respecting other affairs besides the murder of Sir John
Tyrrell ; and, secondly, my scruples as to appearing to
interfere with his escape. Both of these chances expose
me to great danger ; however, one does not get three
hundred a-year for washing one's hands, and I must bal-
ance the one against the other."
"You are a sensible man, Mr. Job," said I, "and 1 am
sure you will richly earn and long enjoy your annuity."
ABYENTUBES OF A GENTLEMAli. 271
As I said this, the watchman beneath our window called
" past eleven 1 " and Jonson, starting up, hastily changed
his own gay gear for a more simple dress, and throwing
over all a Scotch plaid, gave me a similar one, in which
I closely wrapped myself. We descended the stairs softly,
and Jbnson let us out into the street by the " open sesame"
of a key which he retained about his person.
CHAPTER LXXXII.
£t eantare pares, et respondere parati. — Viboil.
As we walked on into Tottenham-court-road, where we
expected to find a hackney-coach, my companion earnestly
and strenuously impressed on my mind the necessity of
implicitly obeying any instructions or hints he might give
me in the course of our adventure. " Remember," said
he, forcibly, " that the least deviation from them will not
only defeat our object of removing Dawson, but even
expose our lives to the most imminent peril." I faith-
fully promised to conform to the minutest tittle of his
instructions.
We came to a stand of coaches. Jonson selected one,
and gave the coachman an order ; he took care it should
oot reach my ears. During the half-hour we passed in
this vehicle, Job examined and re-examined me in my
'canting catechism," as he termed it. He expressed him
IL— 24
278 pelham; oe,
Belf mack pleased with the quickness of mj parts, and
honored me with an assurance that in less than thr«e
months he would engage to make me as complete a mf-
fler as ever nailed a swell.
To this gratifying compliment I made the best return
in my power.
''You must not suppose/' said Jonson, some minutes
afterwards, " from our use of this language, that our club
consists of the lower order of thieves — quite the contrary ;
we are a knot of gentlemen adventurers who wear the
best clothes, ride the best hacks, frequent the best gaming-
houses as well as the genteelest haunts, and sometimes
keep the first company ^ in London. We are limited in
number : we have nothing in common with ordinary prigs,
and should my own little private amusements (as you ap-
propriately term them) be known in the set, I should have
a very fair chance of being expelled for ungentlemanlike
practices. We rarely condescend to speak "flash" to
each other in our ordinary meetings, but we find it neces-
sary for many shifts to which fortune sometimes drives
us. The house you are going this night to visit, is a sort
of colony we have established for whatever persons
amongst us are in danger of blood-money.* There they
sometimes lie concealed for weeks together, and are at
last shipped off for the continent, or enter the world
under a new alias. To this refuge of the distressed we
also send any of the mess who, like Dawson, are troubled
with qualms of conscience which are likely to endanger
* Rewards for the apprehension of thieves, &o
ADYENTUKES 07 A GENTLEMAN 2*12
the commonwealth : there they remain/ as in a hospital,
till death or a cure ; in short, we put the house, like its
inmates, to any purposes likely to frustrate our enemies
an«l setve ourselves. Old Brimstone Bess,, to whom I
shall introduce you, is, as I before said, the guardian of
the place ; and the language that respectable lady chiefly
indulges in, is the one into which you have just acquired
so good an insight. Partly in compliment to her, and
partly from inclination, the dialect adopted in her house
is almost entirely ' flash I ' and you, therefore, perceive
the necessity of appearing not utterly ignorant of a ton-
gue which is not only the language of the country, but
one with which no true boy, however high in his profes-
sion, is ever unacquainted."
By the time Jonson had finished this speech, the coach
stopped — I looked eagerly out of the window — Jonson
observed the motion: "We have not got half-way yet,
your honor," said he. We left the coach, which Jonson
requested me to pay, and walked on.
" Tell me frankly, sir," said Job, " do you know where
you are ? "
" Not in the least," replied I, looking wistfully up a
long, dull, ill-lighted street.
Job rolled his sinister eye towards me with a searching
look, and then turning abruptly to the right, penetrated
into a sort of covered lane, or court, which terminated in
an alley, that brought us suddenly to a stand of three
coaches ; one of these Job hailed — we entered it — a se-
cret direction was given, and we drove furiously on, faster
2q
280 pelham; or,
Ulan I SQonld think the crazy body of hackney chariot
evur drove before. I observed that we had now entered
a part of the town which was singularly strange to me ;
the houses were old, and for the most part of the mean-
est description ; we appeared to me to be threading a
labyrinth of alleys; once, I imagined that I caught,
through a sudden opening, a glimpse of the river, but we
passed so rapidly, that my eye might havq deceived me.
At length we stopped : the coachman was again dis-
missed, and I again walked onwards, under the guidance
and almost at the mercy of my honest companion.
Jonson did not address me — he was silent and absorbed,
and I had therefore full leisure to consider my present
situation. Though (thanks to my physical constitution)
I am as callous to fear as most men, a few chilling ap-
prehensions certainly flitted across my mind, when I looked
round at the dim and dreary sheds — houses they were not
i— which were on either side of our path ; only, here and
there, a single lamp shed a sickly light upon the dismal
and intersecting lanes (though lane is too lofty a word),
through which our footsteps woke a solitary sound.
Sometimes this feeble light was altogether withheld, and
I could scarcely catch even the outline of my companion's
muscular frame. However, he strode on through the
darkness with the mechanical rapidity of one to whom
every stone is familiar. I listened eagerly for the sound
of the watchman's voice ; — in vain — that note was never
heard in those desolate recesses. My ear drank in noth-
ing but the sound of our own footsteps, or the occasional
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 281
burst of obscene and unholy merriment from some half-
closed hovel, where Infamy and Vice were holding reveis.
Now and then, a wretched thing, in the vilest extreme of
want, and loathsomeness, and rags, loitered by the unfre-
qaent lamps, and interrupted our progress with solicita-
tions which made my blood run cold. By degrees even
these tokens of life ceased — the last lamp was entirely
shut from our view — we were in utter darkness.
"We are near our journey's end now," whispered
Jonson.
At these words a thousand unwelcome reflections
forced themselves involuntarily on my mind : I was about
to plunge into the most secret retreat of men whom long
habits of villany and desperate abandonment had hard-
ened into a nature which had scarcely a sympathy with
my own ; unarmed and defenceless, I was about to pene-
trate a concealment upon which their lives perhaps de-
pended ; what could I anticipate from their vengeance,
but the sure hand and the deadly knife, which their self-
preservation would more than justify to such lawless
reasoners ? And who was my companion ? One who
literally gloried in the perfection of his nefarious prac-
tices; and who, if he had stopped short of the worst
enormities, seemed neither to disown the principle upon
which they were committed, nor to balance for a moment
between his interest and his conscience.
Nor did he attempt to conceal from me the danger to
which I was exposed ; much as his daring habits of life,
And the good fortune which had attended him, must have
24*
282 pelham; or,
hardened his nerves, even he seemed fallj sensible of the
peril he incurred — a peril certainly considerably less than
that which attended my temerity. Bitterly did I repent,
as these reflections rapidly passed my mind, my negligence
in not providing myself with a single weapon in case of
need ^ the worst pang of death is the falling without a
struggle.
However, it was no moment for the indulgence of fear ;
it was rather one of those eventful periods which so rarely
occur in the monotony of common life, when our minds
are sounded to their utmost depths: and energies, of
which we dreamt not when at rest in their secret retreats,
arise like spirits at the summons of the wizard, and bring
to the invoking mind an unlooked-for and preternatural
aid.
There was something too in the disposition of my guide,
which gave me a confidence in him, not warranted by the
occupations of his life ; an easy and frank boldness, an
ingenuous vanity of abilities, skilfully, though dishonestly
exerted, which had nothing of the meanness and mystery
of an ordinary villain, and which being equally prominent
with the rascality they adorned, prevented the attention
from dwelling upon the darker shades of his character.
Besides, I had so closely entwined his interest with my
own, that I felt there could be no possible ground either
for suspecting him of any deceit towards me, or of omit-
ting any art or exertion which could conduce to our mutual
safety or our common end.
Forcing myself to dwell solely upon the more enoouiw
ADYENTUBES OF A GENTLEMAN. 2S8
aging side of the enterprise I had undertaken, I continued
to move on with my worthy comrade, silent and in dark-
ness, for some minntes longer — Jonson then halted.
"Are yon quite prepared, sir ? " said he, in a whisper :
" if your heart fails, in Heaven's name let us turn back :
the least evident terror will be as much as your life is
worth."
My thoughts were upon Reginald and Ellen, as I re-
plied —
" You have told and convinced me that I may trust in
you, and I have no fears ; my present object is one as
strong to me as life."
" I would we had a ^Zim," rejoined Job, musingly ; " I
should like to see your face ; but will you give me youi
hand, sir?"
I did, and Jonson held it in his own for more than a
minute.
" 'Fore Gad, sir," said he at last, " I would you were
one of us. You would live a brave man, and die a game
one. Your pulse is like iron ; and your hand does not
Bway — no — not so much as to wave a dove's feather : it
would be a burning shame if harm came to so stout a
heart." Job moved on »-few steps. "Now, sir," he
whispered, " remember your flash ; do exactly as I may
have occasion to tell you ; and be sure to sit away from
the light, should we be in company."
With these words he stopped. By the touch (for it was
Yoo dark to see,) I felt that he was bending down, appar-
ently in a listening attitude ; presently he tapped five times
284 pelham; or,
at what I supposed was the door, though I afterwards
iiscovered it was the shatter to a window ; upon this, a
faint Hght broke through the crevices of the boards, and
a low voice uttered some sound, which my ear did not
catch. Job replied in the same key, and in words which
were perfectly unintelligible to me ; the light disappeared ;
Job moved round, as if turning a corner. I heard the
heavy bolts and bars of a door slowly withdrawn ; and
in a few moments, a harsh voice said, in the thieves' dia-
lect—
" Buffing Job, my prince of prigs, is that you ? are you
come to the ken alone, or do you carry double ? "
''Ah, Bess, my covess, strike me blind if my sees do n't
tout your bingo muns in spite of the darkmans. Egad,
you carry a bene blink aloft. Come to the ken alone —
no I my blowen ; did not I tell you I should bring a pater
cove, to chop up the whiners for Dawson ? " *
" Stubble it, you ben, you deserve to cly the jerk for
your patter; come in, and be d — d to you."f
Upon this invitation, Jonson, seizing me by the arm,
pushed me into the house, and followed. ** Oo for a glim,
Bess, to light' in the black 'un with proper respect. I '11
close the gig of the crib."
At this order, delivered in an authoritative tone, the
* ** Strike me blind if my eyes don't see jour brandy face in
finite of the night. Come to the house alone — no! my woman ;
i^id not I tell you I should bring a parson — to say prayers for
)»aw8on?"
f *' Hold your tongue, fool, you deserve to be whipped for year
chatter."
ADVENTUBES OF A GENTLEMAN. 285
old woman, mumbling "strange oaths" to herself, moved
away ; when she was out of hearing, Job whispered,
*' Mark, I shall leave the bolts undrawn ; the door opens
with a latch, which you press thus — do not forget the
spring ; it is easy, but peculiar ; should you be forced to
run for it, you will also remember, above all, when you
are out. of the door, to turn to the rights and go straight
forwards."
The old woman now reappeared with a light, and
Jonson ceased, and moved hastily towards her : I followed.
The old woman asked whether the door had been carefully
closed, and Jonson, with an oath at her doubts of such a
matter, answered in the affirmative.
We proceeded onwards, through a long and very nar-
row passage, till Bess opened a small door to the right,
and introduced us into a large room, which, to my great
dismay, I found already occupied by four men, who were
sitting, half immersed in smoke, by an oak table, with a
capacious bowl of hot liquor before them. At the back-
ground of this room, which resembled the kitchen of a
public-house, was an enormous skreen, of antique fashion ;
a low fire burnt sullenly in the grate, and beside it was
one of those high-backed chairs seen frequently in old
houses and old pictures. A clock stood in one corner,
and in the opposite nook was a flight of narrow stairs,
which led downwards, probably to a cellar. On a row
of shelves were various bottles of the different liquors
ijeuerally in request among the "flash" gentry, together
with an old-fashioned fiddle, two bridles, and some strange
286 pelham; or,
looking tools, probably of more use to true boys than to
honest men.
Brimstone Bess was a woman about the middle size,
bat with bones and sinews which would not have dis-
graced a prize-fighter ; a cap, that might have been cleaner,
was rather thrown than put on the back of her head,
developing, to full advantage, the few scanty locks of
grizzled ebon which adorned her countenance. Her eyes,
large, black, and prominent, sparkled with a fire half
vivacious, half vixen. The nasal feature was broad and
fungouSf and, as well as the whole of her capacious
physiognomy, blushed with the deepest scarlet: it was
evident to see that many a full bottle of " British com-
pounds" had contributed to the feeding of that burning
and phosphoric illumination, which was indeed, ''the
outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual
grace."
The expression of the countenance was not wholly bad.
Amidst the deep traces of searing vice and unrestrained
passion — amidst all that was bold and unfeminine, and
fierce and crafty, there was a latent look of coarse good-
humor, a twinkle of the eye that bespoke a tendency to
mirth and drollery, and an upward curve of the lip thaf
showed, however the human creature might be debased,
it still cherished its grand characteristic — the propensity
to laughter.
The garb of this Dame Leonarda was by no means of
that humble nature which one might have supposed. A
gown of crimson silk, flounced and furbelowed to the
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 287
knees, was tastefully relieved by a bright yellow shawl ;
and a pair of heavy pendants glittered in her ears, which
were of the size proper to receive " the big words " they
were in the habit of hearing. Probably this finery had
its origin in the policy of her gnests, who had seen enough
of life to know that age, which tames all other piassions,
never tames the passion of dress in a woman's heart.
No sooner did the four revellers set their eyes upon me
than thev all rose.
''Zounds, Bess I" cried the tallest of them, "what
cull 's this ? Is this a bowsing ken for every cove to shove
his trunk in ? "
" What ho, my kiddy ? " cried Job, " do n't be glim-
flashy : why you 'd cry beef on a blater ; * the cove is a
bob cull, and a pal of my own ; and moreover, is as pretty
a Tyburn blossom as ever was brought up to ride a horse
foaled by an acorn."
Upon this commendatory introduction I was forthwith
surrounded, and one of the four proposed that I should
be immediately "elected."
This motion, which was probably no gratifying cere-
mony, Job negatived with a dictatorial air, and reminded
hi3 comrades that however they might find it convenient
to lower themselves occasionally, yet that they were gen-
tlemec sharpers, and not vulgar cracksmen and clyfakers,
and that, therefore, they ought to welcome me with the
good breeding appropriate to their station.
* *» Do nH be angry ! Why you 'd cry beef on a calf — the man
is a good fellow, and a comrade of my own," &o.
:S88 pelham; or,
Upon this hint, which was received with mingled
laughter and deference, (for Job seemed to be a man of
might among these Philistines,) the tallest of the set, who
bore the euphonious appellation of Spider-shanks, politely
asked me if I would '* blow a cloud with him I " and uppn
my assent, (for I thought such an occupation would be
the best excuse for silence,) he presented me with a pipe
of tobacco, to which Dame Brimstone applied a light, and
I soon lent my best endeavors to darken still farther the
atmosphere around us.
Mr. Job Jonson then began artfully to turn the cou-
yersation away from me to the elder confederates of his
crew ; these were all spoken of under certain singular
appellations which might well baffle impertinent curiosity.
The name of one was " the Gimlet," another " Crack
Crib," a third, " the Magician," a fourth, " Cherry-colored
Jowl." The tallest of the present company was called
(as I before said) ''Spider-shanks," and the shortest,
" Fib Fakfc3crew ; " Job himself was honored by the
venerdbile aomen of " Guinea Pig." At last Job ex-
plained the cause of my appearance; viz., his wish to
pacify Dawson's conscience by dressing up one of the
pals, whom the sinner could not recognize, as an '' autem
bawler," and no obtaining him the benefit of the clergy
without endangering the gang by his confession. This
detail was received with great good humor, and Job,
watching his opportunity, soon after rose, and, turning
to me, said —
ADVENTURES 07 A GENTLEMAN. 289
''Toddle, my bob cull — we must track up the dancers
and tout the sinner."*
1 wanted no other hint to leave my present situation.
** The ruffian cly thee, Guinea Pig, for stashing the
lush,"f said Spider-shanks, helping himself out of the
bowl, which was nearly empty.
*' Stash the lush!" J cried Mrs. Brimstone, "ay, and
toddle" off to Ruggins. Why, you would not be boosing
till lightman's in a square crib like mine, as if you were
in a flash panny I "
" That 's bang up, mort ! " cried Fib. "A square crib,
indeed I ay, square as Mr. Newman's court-yard — ding-
boys on three sides, and the crap on the fourth I '' §
This characteristic witticism was received with great
applause ; and Jonson, taking a candlestick from the fair
fingers of the exasperated Mrs. Brimstone, the hand thus
conveniently released immediately transferred itself to
Fib's cheeks, with so hearty a concussion that it almost
brought the rash jester to the ground. Jonson and T lost
not a moment in taking advantage of the confusion this
gentle remonstrance appeared to occasion ; but instantly
left the room and closed the door.
* *< Move, my good fellow, we must go up stairs, and look at the
■inner."
f ** The devil take thee, for stopping the drink."
J ** Stop the drink, ay, and be off to bed. You would not be
drinking till day — in an honest house like mine, as if you were m
a disreputable place ! "
2 " That 's capital. A square crib (honest house] I Ay, square
as Newgate coach-yard — rogues on three sides, and the gallows on
the fourth."
II. — 25
290 pelham; oe,
CHAPTER LXXXIII.
'Tis true that we are in great danger ;
The greater, therefore, should our courage be.
Shakspbabb.
We proceeded a short way, when we were stopped
by a door; this Job opened, and a narrow staircase,
lighted from above by a dim lamp, was before ns. We
ascended, and found ourselves in a sort of gallery : hero
hung another lamp, beneath which Job opened a closet
" This is the place where Bess generally leaves the
keys," said he ; " we shall find them here, I hope."
So saying, Master Job entered, leaving me in the pas-
sage ; but soon returned with a disappointed air.
" The old haridan has left them below," said he ; "J
must go down for them ; your honor will wait here till 1
return,"
Suiting the action to the word, honest Job immediately
descended, leaving me alone with my own reflections.
Just opposite to the closet was the door of some apart-
ment ; I leant accidentally against it ; it was only ajar,
and gave way ; the ordinary consequence in such acci-
dents is a certain precipitation from the centre of gravity.
I am not exempt from the general lot, and accordingly
entered the room in a manner entii ely contrary to that
ADVENTURES 07 A GENTLEMAN. 291
which mj nataral inclination wonld have prompted me to
adopt. My ear was accosted by a faint voice, which pro- .
ceeded from a bed at the opposite corner : it asked, in
the thieves' dialect, and in the feeble accents of bodily
weakness, who was there ? I did not judge it necessary
to majce any reply, but was withdrawing as gently as pos-
sible, when my eye rested upon a table at the foot of the
bed, upon which, among two or three miscellaneous arti-
cles, were deposited a brace of pistols, and one of those
admirable swords, made according to the modern military
regulation, for the united purpose of cut and thrust. The
light which enabled me to discover the contents of the
room, proceeded from a rush-light placed in the grate ;
this general symptom of a valetudinarian, together with
some other little odd matters (combined with the weak
voice of the speaker), impressed me with the idea of
having intruded into the chamber of some sick member
of the crew. Emboldened by this notion, and by per-
ceiving that the curtains were drawn closely around the
bed, so that the inmate could have optical discernment
of nothing that occurred without, I could not resist taking
two soft steps to the table, and quietly removing a weapon,
whose bright face seemed to invite me as a long-known
and long-tried friend.
This was not, however, done in so noiseless a manner,
but what the voice again addressed me, in a somewhat
lOuder key, by the appellation of " Brimstone Bess," ask-
ing, with sundry oaths, " what was the matter ?" and re-
q'lesting something to drink. I need scarcely say that,
292 pelham; or,
as before, I made no reply, bnt crept ont of the room as
gently as possible, blessing my good fortune for baying
thrown into my way a weapon with the use of which,
above all others, I was acquainted. Scarcely had I re-
gained the passage, before Jonson reappeared with the
keys; I showed him my treasure (for indeed it was .of no
sixe to conceal).
'Are you mad, sir ? " said he, " or do you think that
the best way to avoid suspicion is to walk about with a
drawn sword in your hand f I would not have Bess see
you for the best diamond I ever borrowed.^^ With these
words Job took the sword from my reluctant hand.
" Where did you get it ? " said he.
I explained in a whisper, and Job, reopening the door
I had so unceremoniously entered, laid the weapon softly
on a chair that stood within reach. The sick man, whose
senses were of course rendered doubly acute by illness,
once more demanded, in a fretful tone, who was there I
And Job replied, in the flash language, that Bess had
sent him up to look for her keys, which she imagined she
had left there. The invalid rejoined by a request to Jon-
son to reach him a draught, and we had to undergo a
farther delay until his petition was complied with ; we
then proceeded up the passage till we came to another
flight of steps, which led to a door ; Job opened it, and
we entered a room of no common dimensions.
" This," said he, " is Bess Brimstone's sleeping apart-
ment ] whoever goes into the passage that leads not only
to Dawson's room but to the several other chambers oc-
ADVENTURES OP A GENTLEMAN. 29i*i
cupied by such of the gang as require particular care,
must pass first through this room. You see that bell by
the bedside — I assure you it is no ordinary tintinnabu-
lum ; it commupieates with every sleeping apartment in'
the house, and is only rung in cases of great alarm, when
every boy must look well to himself; there are two more
of this description, one in the room which we have just
left, another in the one occupied by Spider-shanks, who
is our watch-dog, and keeps his kennel below. Those
steps in the common room, which seem to lead to a cel-
lar, conduct to his den. As we shall have to come back
through this room, you see the difficulty of smuggling
Dawson — and if the old dame rung the alarm, the whole
hive would be out in a moment."
After this speech. Job led me from the room by a door
at the opposite end, which showed us a passage similar
in extent and fashion to the one we had left below ; at
the very extremity of this was the entrance to an apart*
ment, at which Jonson stopped.
" Here," said he, taking from his pocket a small paper
book and an ink-horn ; " here, your honor, take these,
you may Want to note the heads of Dawson's confession ;
we are now at his door." Job then applied one of the
keys of a tolerably sized bunch to the door, and the next
moment we were in Dawson's apartment.
The room, which, though low and narrow, was of con-
siderable length, was in utter darkness, and the dim and
flickering light which Jonson held only struggled with,
rather than penetrated the thick gloom. About the cen-
26*
294 PELITAM; OR,
tre of the room stood the bed, and sitting upright on It,
with a wan and hollow countenance, bent eagerly towards
us, was a meagre, attenuated figure. My recollection of
Dawson, whom, it will be remembered, I had only seen
once before, was extremely faint, but it had impressed me
with the idea of a middle-sized and rather athletic man,
with a fair and florid complexion : the creature I now
saw was totally the reverse of this idea. His cheeks
were yellow and drawn in : his hand, which was raised in
the act of holding aside the curtains, was like the talons
of a famished vulture, so thin was it, so long, so withered
in its hue and texture.
No sooner did the advancing light allow him to see us
distinctly, than he half sprung, from the bed, and cried,
in that peculiar tone of joy which seems to throw off
from the breast a suffocating weight of previous terror
and suspense, " Thank God, thank God I it is you at
last; and you have brought the clergyman — ^God bless
you, Jonson ; you are a true friend to me."
" Cheer up, Dawson," said Job ; " I have smuggled
in this worthy gentleman, who, I have no doubt, will be
of great com/ort to you — but you must be open with him,
and tell all."
"That I will — that I will," cried Dawson, with. a wild
and rladictive expression of countenance — " if it be only
to hw»g him. Here, Jonson, give me your hand, bring
the l-^^t nearer — I say, — he, the devil — the fiend — has
Deei here to-day and threatened to murder me ; and I
h^'' Ittened, and listened, all night, and thought I heard
adventuhes of a gentleman. 295
u
his step along the passage, and up the stairs, and at the
door; but it was nothing, Job, nothing — and you are
come at last, good, kind, worthy Job. Oh 1 'tis. so hor-
rible to be left in the dark, and not sleep — and in this
large, large room, which looks like eternity at night —
and one does fancy such sights, Job — such horrid, horrid
sights. Feel my wristband, Jonson, and here at my back,
you would think they had been pouring water over me,
but it's only the cold sweat. Oh I 'tis a fearful thing to
have a bad conscience, Job ; but you won't leave me till
daylight, now, that 's a dear, good Job 1 "
** For shame, Dawson," said Jonson ; " pluck up, and
be a man ; you are like a baby frightened by its nurse.
Here 's the clergyman come to heal your poor wounded
conscience; will you bear him noio?"
"Yes," said Dawson, "yes I — but go out of the room
— I can 't tell all if you 're here ; go. Job, go I — but
you 're not angry with me ? — I do n't mean to offend
you."
"Angry I " said Job ; " Lord help the poor fellow I no,
to be sure not. I'll stay outside the door till you've
done with the clergyman^ — but make haste, for the night's
almost over, and it 's as much as the parson's life is worth
to stay here after daybreak."
" I toill make haste," said the guilty man, tremulously ;
"but Job, where are you going — what are you doing?
leave the light! here. Job, by the bedside."
Job did as ho was desired, and quitted the room, leav-
ing the door not so firmly shut but that be might hear,
2r
296 PELHAM; OR,
if the penitent spoke aloud, every particular of his con-
fession.
I seated myself on the side of the bed, and taking the
skeleton hand of th€ unhappy man, spoke to him in the
most consolatory and comforting words I could summon
to my assistance. He seemed greatly soothed by iny
efforts, and at last implored me to let him join me in
prayer I knelt down, and my lips readily found words
for that language, which, whatever be the formula of our
faith, seems, in all emotions which come home to our
hearts, the most natural method of expressing them. It
IS herBf by the bed of sickness or remorse, that the min-
isters of (}od have their real power I it is here that their
office is indeed a divine and unearthly mission ; and that,
in breathing balm and comfort, in healing the broken
heart, in raising the crushed and degraded spirit, they
are the voice and oracle of the FATHER, who made us
in benevolence, and will judge us in mercy I I rose, and
after a short pause, Dawson, who expressed himself im
patient for the comfort of confession, thus began —
" I have no time, sir, to speak of the earlier part of my
life. I passed it upon the race-course and at the gaming-
table— all that was, I know, very wrong and wicked ; but
I was a wild, idle boy, and eager for anything like enter-
prise or mischief. Well, sir, it is now more than three
years ago since I first met with one Tom Thornton , it
was at a boxing match. Tom was chosen chairman, at a
sort of club of the farmers and yeomen ; and being a
lively, amusing fellow, and accustomed to the company
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 297
of gentlemen, was a great favorite with all of us. He
was very civil to me, and I was quite pleased with his
notice. I did not, however, see much of him then, nor
for more than two years afterwards ; but some months
ago we met again. I was in very poor circumstances, so
was he, and fhis made us closer friends than we might
otherwise have been. He lived a great deal at the gambling-
houses, and fancied he had discovered a certain method
of winning* at hazard. So, whenever he could not. find
a gentleman whom he could cheat with false dice, tricks
at cards, &c., he would go into any hell to try his infalli-
ble game. I did not, however, perceive that he made a
good living by it : and though sometimes, either by that
method or some other, he had large sums of money in his
possession, yet they were spent as soon as acquired. The
fact was, that he was not a man that could ever grow
rich ; he was extremely extravagant in all things — loved
women and drinking, and was always striving to get into
the society of people above him. In order to do this, he
affected great carelessness of money ; and if, at a race or
a cock-fight, any real gentlemen would go home with him,
be would insist upon treating them to the best of every-
thing.
" Thus, sir, he was always poor, and at his wits' end
for means to supply his extravagance. He introduced
me to three or four gentlemen^ as he called them, but
whom I have since found to be markers, sharpers, and
blacklegs ; and this set soon dissipated the little honesty
* A Tery common delasion, both among sharpers and their prej.
298 peliiam; ob,
my own habita )f life had left me. They never spoke of
things by their right names ; and, therefore, those thijiga
never seemed so bad as they really were — to swindle a
gentleman did not sound a crime when it was called
* macing a swell,' — nor transportation a punishment, when
it was termed, with a laugh, 'lagging a cove.' Thus, in-
sensibly, my ideas of right and wrong, always obscure,
became perfectly confused ; and the habit of treating all
crimes as subjects of jest in familiar conversation, soon
made me regard them as matters of very trifling import-
ance.
" Well, sir, at Newmarket races, this Spring meeting,
Thornton and I were on the look out. He had come
down to stay, during the races, at a house I had just in-
herited from my father, but which was rather an expense
to me than an advantage ; especially as my wife, who was
an innkeeper's daughter, was very careless and extrava-
gant. It so happened that we were both taken in by a
jOckey, whom we had bribed very largely, and were losers
to a very considerable amount. Among other people, I
lost to a Sir John Tyrrell. I expressed my vexation to
Thornton, who told me not to mind it, but to tell Sir
John that I would pay him if he came to the town ; and
that he was quite sure we could win enough, by his cer-
tain game at hazard, to pay off my debt. He was so
very urgent, that I allowed myself to be persuaded ;
though Thornton has since told me that his only motive
was to prevent Sir John's going to the Marquess of
Chester's f where he was invited) with my lord's party ;
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 299
and so to have an opportunity of accomplishing tha crime
he then meditated.
"Accordingly, as Thornton desired, I asked Sir John
Tyrrell to come with me to Newmarket. He did so. I
left him, joined Thornton, and went to the gambling-
honse. Here we were engaged in Thornton's sure game,
when Sir John entered. I went up and apologized for
not paying, and said I would pay him in three months.
However, Sir John was very angry, and treated me with
such rudeness, that the whole table remarked it. When
he was gone, I told Thornton how hurt and indignant I
was at Sir John's treatment. He incensed me still more
— exaggerated Sir John's conduct — said that I had suf-
fered the grossest insult ; and at last put me into such a
passion, that I said that if I was a gentleman, I would
fight Sir John Tyrrell across the table.
"When Thornton saw I was so moved, he took me out
of the room, and carried me to an inn. Here he ordered
dinner, and several bottles of wine. I never could bear
much drink : he knew this, and artfully plied me with
wine till I scarcely knew what I did or said. He then
talked much of our destitute situation — affected to put
himself out of the question — said he was a single man,
and could easily make shift upon a potato — but that I
was encumbered with a wife and child, whom I could not
suffer to starve. He then said, that Sir John Tyrrell had
publicly disgraced me — that I should be blown upon the
course — ^that no gentleman would bet with me again, and
a great deal more of the same sort. Seeing what an effect
300 pelham; or,
he bad produced npon me, he then told me that he had
seen Sir John receive a large sum of money, which would
more than pay our debts, and set us up like gentlemen,
and, at last, he proposed to me to rob him. Intoxicated
as I was, I was somewhat startled at this proposition.
However, the slang terms in which Thornton disguised
the greatness and danger of the ofifence, very much dimin>
ished both in my eyes — so at length I consented.
"We went to Sir John's inn, and learnt that he had
just set out : accordingly we mounted our horses and
rode after him. The night had already closed in. After
we had got some distance from the main road, into a lane,
which led both to my house and to Chester Park — for the
former was on the direct way to my lord's — we passed a
man on horseback. I only observed that he was wrapped
in a cloak — but Thornton said, directly we had passed
him, ' I know that man well — he has been following Tyr-
rell all day — and though he attempts to screen himself, I
have penetrated his 'disguise : — he is Tyrrell's mortal
enenpy.'
" ' Should the worst come to the worst,' added Thorn-
ton (words which I did not at that moment understand),
'we can make him bear the blame.'
"When we got some way further, we came up to Tyr-
rell and a gentleman whom, to our great dismay, we found
that Sir John had joined — the gentleman's horse had met
«
with an accident, and Thornton dismounted to oflfer his
assistance. He assured the gentleman, who proved after-
wards to be a Mr Pelham. that the horse was quite lame
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 301
and that be would scarcely be able to get it borne ; and
he then proposed to Sir John to accompany ns^ and said
that we would put him in the right road ; this offer Sir
John rejected very haughtily, and we rode on.
" 'It's all up with us," said I; 'since he has joined
another person.'
" ' Not at all,' replied Thornton ; ' for I managed to
give the horse a sly poke with my knife ; and if I know
anything of Sir John Tyrrell, be is much too impatient a
spark to crawl along a snaiPs pace with any companion,
especially with this heavy shower coming on.'
" ' But,' said I, for I now began to recover from my
intoxication, and to be sen'^ible of the nature of our un
dertaking, 'the moon is up, and unless this shower con
ceals it, Sir John will recognize us ; so you see, even if
he leave the gentleman, it will be no use, and we had
better make haste home and go to bed.'
"Upon this, Thornton cursed me for a faint-hearted
fellow, and said that the cloud would effectually hide the
moon — or, if not — he added — 'I know how to silence a
prating tongue.' At these words I was greatly alarmed,
and said, that if he meditated murder as well as robbery,
I would have nothing farther to do with it. Thornton
laughed, and told me not to be a fool. While we were
thus debating, a heavy shower came on ; we rode hastily
to a large tree by the side of a pond, which, though oare
and withered, was the nearest shelter the country afforded,
and was only a very short distance from my house. I
wished to go home, but Thornton would not let me ; and
TI. — 26
302 pelham; or,
as I was always in the habit of yielding, I remained witb
him, though very reluctantly, under the tree.
" Presently, we heard the trampling of a horse.
" * It is he — it is he,' cried Thornton, with a savage
tone of exultation, 'and alone 1 — Be ready — we must
make a rush — I will be the one to bid him to deliver —
you hold your tongue.'
** The clouds and rain had so overcast the night, that,
although it was not perfectly dark, it was sufficiently
obscure to screen our countenances. Just as Tyrrell
approached Thornton dashed forward, and cried, in a
feigned voice — ' Stand, on your peril I ' I followed, and
we were now both by Sir John's side.
" He attempted to push by us — but Thornton seized
him by the arm — there was a stout struggle, in which as
yet I had no share ; at last, Tyrrell got loose from Thorn
ton, and I seized him — he set spurs to his horse, which
was a very spirited and strong animal — ^it reared upwards
and very nearly brought me and my horse to the ground
—at that instant, Thornton struck the unfortunate man a
violent blow across the head with the butt-end of his
heavy whip — Sir John's hat had fallen before in the
struggle, and the blow was so stunning that it felled hitn
upon the spot. - Thornton dismounted, and made me dj
the same — 'There is no time to lose,' said he; 'let us
drag him from the roadside, and rifle him.' We accord-
ingly carried him (he was still senseless) to the side of
the pond before mentioned. While we were searching
for the money Thornton spoke of, the storm ceased and
ADVENTURES 0^ A GENTLEMAN. 303
the moon broke out — we were detained some moments
by the accident of TjrrelPs having transferred his pocket-
book from the pocket Thornton had seen him pnt it in
on the race-ground to an inner one.
"We had just discovered and seized the. pocket-book,
when Sir John awoke from his swoon, and his eyes opened
upon Thornton, who was still bending over him, and look-
ing at the contents of the book to see that all was right ;
the moonlight left Tyrrell in no doubt as to our persons ;
and struggling hard to get up, he cried, * I know you ! I
know you I you shall hang for this.' No sooner had he
uttered this imprudence, than it was all over^with him.
* We will see that, Sir John,' said Thornton, setting his
knee upon TyrrelPs chest, and nailing him down. While
thus employed, he told me to feel in his coat-pocket for a
case-knife.
" * For God's sake,' cried Tyrrell, with a tone of ago-
nizing terror which haunts me still, * spare my life ! '
" ' It is too late,' said Thornton, deliberately, and tak-
ing the knife from my hands, he plunged it into Sir John's
side, and as the blade was too short to reach the vitals,
Thornton drew it backwards and forwards to widen the
wound. Tyrrell was a strong man, and still continued to
struggle and call out for mercy — Thornton drew out the
knife — Tyrrell seized it by the blade, and his fingers were
cut through before Thornton could snatch it from his
grasp ; the wretched gentleman then saw all hope was
^ver : he uttered one loud, sharp cry of despair Thorn-
S04 pelham; ob,
ton put one hand to his mouth, and with the other gashed
his throat from ear to ear
" * You have done for him and for us now,' said I, as
Thornton slowly rose from the bodj. * No,' replied he,
' look, he still moves ; ' and sure enough he did, but it was
in the last agony. However, Thornton, to make all sure,
plunged the knife again into his body : the blade came in
contact with a bone, and snapped in two : so great was
the violence of the blow, that, instead of remaining in the
flesh, the broken piece fell upon the ground among the
long fern and grass.
" Whil^ we were employed in searching for it, Thorn-
ton, whose ears were much sharper than mine, caught the
sound of a horse. ' Mount I mount I ' he cried, ' and let us
be off I ' We sprung upon our horses, and rode away as
fast as we could, I wished to go home, as it was so near
at hand ; but Thornton insisted on making to an old shed,
about a quarter of a mile across the fields : thither, there-
fore, we went."
" Stop," said I : " what did Thornton do with the re-
maining part of the case-knife f Did he throw it away,
or carry it with him?"
"He took it with him," answered Dawson, "for his
name was engraved on a silver plate on the handle ; and
he was therefore afraid of throwing it into the pond, as I
advised, lest at any time it should be discovered. Closo
by the shed there is a plantation of young firs of some
extent : Thornton and I entered, and he dug a hol\/ with
ft
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 305
the broken blade of the knife, and bnried it, covering up
the hole again with the earth '
*' Describe the place," said I. Dawson paused, and
seemed to recollect. I was on the very tenterhooks of
suspense, for I saw with one glance all the importance
of his reply.
After some moments, he shook his head : '' I cannot
describe the place," said he, " for the wood is so thick ;
yet I know the exact spot so well, that, were I in any
part of the plantation, I could point it out immediately."
I told him to pause again, and recollect himself; and
at all events, to try to indicate the place. However, his
account was so confused and perplexed, that I was forced
to give up the point in despair, and he continued.
"After we had done this, Thornton told me to hold the
horses, and said he would go alone, to spy whether we
might return ; accordingly he did so, and brought back
word, in about half an hour, that he had crept cautiously
along till in sight of the place, and then, throwing him-
self down on his face by the ridge of a bank, had observed
a man (who he was sure was the person with a cloak we
had passed, and who, he said, was Sir Reginald Glanville)
mount his horse on the very spot of the murder, and ride
oflf, while another person (Mr. Pelham) appeared, and also
discovered the fatal place.
" ' There is no doubt now,' said he, 'that we shall have
the hue-and-cry upon us. However, if you are staunch
and stout-hearted, no possible danger can come to us j
26*
306 pelham; or,
for yon may leave me alone to throw the whole gnilt upon
Sir Reginald Glanville.'
"We then mounted, and rode home. We stole up
stairs by the back way. Thornton's linen and hands
were stained with blood. The former he took off, locked
up carefully, and burnt the first opportunity : the latter
he washed ; and, that the water might not lead to detec-
tion, drank it. We then appeared as if nothing had oc-
curred, and learnt that Mr. Pelham had been to the house ;
but as, very fortunately, our out-buildings had been lately
robbed by some idle people, my wife and servants had
refused to admit him. I was thrown into great agitation,
and was extremely frightened. However, as Mr. Pel-
ham had left a message that we were to go to the pond,
Thornton insisted upon our repairing there to avoid sus-
picion."
Dawson then proceeded to say that, on their return,
as he was still exceedingly nervous, Thornton insisted on
his going to bed. When our party from Lord Chester's
came to the house, Thornton went into Dawson's room,
and made him swallow a large tumbler of brandy;* this
intoxicated him so as to make him less sensible to his
dangerous situation. Afterwards, when the picture was
found, which circumstance Thornton communicated to
him, along with that of the threatening letter sent by
Glanville to the deceased, which was discovered in Tyr-
rell's pocket-book, Dawson recovered courage, and jus
* A common practice with thieyes who fear the weaK Denret of
their accomplices.
ADYENTTJBES OF A GENTLEMAN. 30)
tice being entirely thrown on a wrong scent, he managed
to pass his examination without suspicion. He then went
to town with Thornton, and constantly attended "the
club " to which Jonson had before introduced him ; at
first, among his new comrades, and while the novel flush
of the money he had so fearfully acquired lasted, he par?
tially succeeded in stifling his remorse. But the success
of crime is too contrary to nature to continue long ; his
poor wife, whom, in spite of her extravagant and his
dissolute habits, he seemed really to love, fell ill and died ;
on her death-bed she revealed the suspicions she had
formed of his crime, and said that those suspicions had
preyed upon and finally destroyed her health : this awoke
him from the guilty torpor of his conscience. His share
of the money, too, the greater part of which Thornton
had bullied out of him, was gone. He fell, as Job had
said, into despondency and gloom, and often spoke to
Thornton so forcibly of his remorse, and so earnestly of
his gnawing and restless desire to appease his mind by
surrendering himself to justice, that the fears of that vil-
lain grew at length so thoroughly alarmed, as to procure
his removal to his present abode.
It was here that his real punishment commenced :
closely confined to his apartment, at the remotest corner
of the house, his solitude was never broken but by the
short and hurried visits of his female gaoler, and (worse
even than loneliness) the occasional invasions of Thorn-
ton. There appeared to be in that abandoned wretch,
\ii(hat, fpr the honor of human nature, is but rarely found,
808 pelh^am; or,
via. a love Of sin, not for its objects, but itSelf. With t^
malignity, doubly fiendish from its inutility, he forbade
Dawson the only indulgence he craved — a light during
the dark hours ; and not only insulted him for his
cowardice, but even added to his terrors by threats of
efifectually silencing them.
These fears had so wildly worked upon the man's mind,
that prison itself appeared to him an elysium to the hell
he endured : and when his confession was ended, and I
said, " If you can be freed from this place, would you
repeat before a magistrate all that yon have now told
me ? " he started up in delight at the very thought. In
truths besides his remorse, and that inward and impelling
voice which, nn all the annals of murder, seems to urge
the criminal onwards to the last expiation of his guilt— ^
besides these, there mingled in his mind a sentiment of
bitter, yet cowardly, vengeance, against his inhuman ac-
complice ; and perhaps he found consolation for his own
fate, in the hope of wreaking upon Thornton's head some-
what of the tortures that ruffian had inflicted upon him.
I had taken down in my book the heads of the confes-
sion, and I now hastened to Jonson, who, waiting with-
out the door, had (as I had anticipated) heard all.
"You see," said I, "that, ho^6ver satisfactory this
recital has been, it contains no secondary or innate proofs
to confirm it ; the only evidence with which it could fur-
nish us, would be the remnant of the broken knife, en-
graved with Thornton's name ; but you have heard from
Dawson's account, how impossible it would be in an ex^
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. ^09
tensive wood, for any one to discover the spot but himself.
Yoa will agree with me, therefore, that we must not leave
this house without Dawson."
Job changed color slightly.
"I see as clearly as you do," said he, "that it will be
necessary for my annuity, and your friend's full acquittal,
to procure Dawson's personal. evidence, but it is late now ;
the men may be still drinking below ; Bess may be still
awake and stirring ; even if she sleeps, how could we pass
her room without disturbing her ? I own that I do not
see a chance of effecting his escape to-night, without in-
curring the most probable' peril of having our throats
cut Leave it, therefore, to me to procure his release as
soon as possible — probably to-morrow, and let us now
quietly retire, content with what we have yet got."
Hitherto I had implicitly obeyed Job : it was now my
turn to command " Look you," said I, calmly but sternly
" I have come, into this house under your guidance, solely
to procure the evidence of that man ; the evidence he
has, as yet, given, may not be worth a straw ; and, since
I have ventured among the knives of your associates, it
shall be for some purpose. I tell you fairly that, whether
you befriend or betray me, I will either leave these walls
with Dawson or remain in them a corpse."
" You are a bold blade, sir," said Jonson, who seemed
rather to respect than resent the determination of my
tone, " and we willsee what can be done ; wait here, your
honor, while I go down to see if the boys are gone to bed,
ard the coast is clear."
]
310 pelham; or,
Job descended, and I re-entered Dawson's room. When
I told him that we were resolved, if possible, to effect hia
escape, nothing conld exceed his transport and gratitude ;
this was, indeed, expressed in so mean and servile a man«
ner, mixed with so many petty threats of vengeance against
Thornton, that I could scarcely conceal my disgust.
Jonson returned, and beckoned me oat of the room.
" They are all in bed, sir," said he — ** Bess as well as
the rest ; indeed, the old girl has lushed so well at the
bingo, that she sleeps as if her next morrow was the day
of judgment. I have, also, seen that the street-door is
still unbarred, so that, upon the whole, we have, perhaps,
as good a chance to-night as we may ever have again
All my fear is about that cowardly lubber. I have left
both Bess's doors wide open, so we have nothing to do
but to creep through ; as for me, I am an old file, and
could steal my way through a sick man's room, like a
sunbeam through a key-hole."
" Well," said I, in the same strain, " I am no elephant,
and my dancing-master used to tell me I might tread on
a butterfly's wing without brushing off a tint : (poor
Coulon I he little thought of the use his lessons would
be to me hereafter I) — ^so let us be quick, Master Job."
" Stop," said Jonson ; " I have yet a ceremony to per-
form with our caged bird. I must put a fresh gag on his
mouth ; for though, if he escapes, I must leave England,
perhaps for ever, for fear of the jolly boys, and, therefore,
care not what he blabs about me ] yet there are a few fine
fellows amongst the club, whom I would not have hurt
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 811
for the Indies; 80*I shall make Master Dawson take our
last oath — the Devil himself would not break that, I
think ! Your honor will stay outside the door, for we
can have no witness while it is administered."
Job then entered ; I stood without ; — in a few mitates
I hoard Dawson's voice in the accents of supplication.
Soon after Job returned. ** The craven dog won't take
the oath," said he, " and may my right hand rot above
ground before it shall turn key for him unless he does."
But when Dawson saw that Job had left the room and
withdrawn the light, the conscience-stficken coward came
to the door, and implored Job to return. "Will you
swear, then ? " said Jonson ; " I will, I will," was the
answer.
Job then re-entered — minutes passed away — Job re-
appeared, and Dawson was dressed, and clinging hold of
him — "All 's right I " said he to me, with a satisfied air.
The oath had been taken — what it was I know not-—
but it was never broken,^
Dawson and Job went first — I followed — we passed
the passage, and came to the chamber of the sleeping
Mrs. Brimstone. Job bent eagerly forward to listen, be-
fore we entered ; he took hold of Dawson's arm, and
beckoning to me to follow, stole, with a step that the
blind mole would not have heard, across the room. Care-
fully did the practised thief veil the candle he carried
with his hand, as he now began to pass by the bed. I'
* Those conversant with the annals of Newgate well know how
religioasly the oaths of these fearful Freemasonries are kept.
28
312 pelham; or,
Baw that Dawson trembled like a leaf, and the palpitation
of his limbs made his step audible and heavy. Just as
they had half-way passed the bed, I turned my look on
Brimstone Bess, and observed, with a shuddering thrill,
her eyes slowly open, and fix upon the forms of my com-
panions. Dawson's gaze had been bent in the same di*
rection, and when he met the full, glassy stare of the
beldame's eyes, he uttered a faint scream. This com-
pleted our danger : had it not been for that exclamation,
Bess might, in the uncertain vision of drowsiness, have
passed over the third person, and fancied it was only myself
and Jonson, in our way from Dawson's apartment ; but no
sooner had her ear caught the sound, than she started up,
and sat erect on her bed, gazing at us in mingled wrath
and astonishment.
That was a fearful moment — we stood riveted to the
spot I " Oh, my kiddies," cried Bess, at last finding
speech, " you are in Queer-street, I trow I Plant your
stumps, Master Guinea Pig ; you are going to stall off
the Daw's baby in prime twig, eh ? But Bess stags you,
my cove I Bess stags you."*
Jonson looked irresolute for one instant, but the next
he had decided, **Run, run," cried he, "for your lives;"
and he and Dawson (to whom fear did indeed lend wings)
were out of the room in an instant. I lost no time in
following their example ; but the vigilant and incensed
hag was too quick for me ; she pulled violently the bell,
* *'Halt, — Master Guinea Pig, you are going to steal Dawson
away, eh ? But Bess sees you, my man, Bess sees you ! "
J
•4
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 313
on which she had already placed her hand : the alarm
rang like an echo in a cavern ; below — around — far —
near — from wall to wall — from chamber to chamber, the
Boand seemed multiplied and repeated I and in the same
breathing point of time she sprang from her bed and
seized me, just as I had reached the door.
" On, on, on," cried Jonson's voice to Dawson, as they
bad already gained the passage, and left the whole room,
and the staircase beyond, in utter darkufss.
With a firm, muscular, nervous gripe, which almost
m
showed a masculine strength, the hag clung to my throat
and breast , behind, among some of the numerous rooms
in the passage we had left, I heard sounds which told too
plainly how rapidly the alarm had spread. A door opened
— steps approached — my fate seemed fixed ; but despair
gave me energy : it was no time for the ceremonials due
to the beau sexe. I dashed Bess to the ground, tore my-
self from her relaxing grasp, and fled down the steps with
all the precipitation the darkness would allow. I gained
the passage, at the far end of which hung the lamp, now weak
and waning in its socket, which, it will be remembered, burnt
close by the sick man's chamber that I had so unintention-
ally entered. A thought flashed upon my mind, and lent
me new nerves and fresh speed ; I flew along the passage,
guided by the dying light. The staircase I had left shook
with the footsteps of my pursuers. I was at the door of
the sick thief — I burst it open — seized the sword as it
lay within reach on the chair, where Jonson had placed
it. and feeling, at the touch of the familiar weapon, as
II — 2T
814 pelham; OB,
if the might of ten men had been transferred to my single
arm, I bounded down the stairs before me — passed the
door at the bottom, which Dawson had foftnnately left
open — flang it back almost upon the face of my advancing
enemies, and found myself in the long passage which led
tc the street-door, in safety, bat in the thickest darkness.
A light flashed from a door to the left; the door was that
of the " Common room " which we had first entered ; it
opened, and Spider-shanks, with one of his comrades,
looked forth, the former holding a light. I darted by
them, and, gnided by their lamp, fled along the passage,
and reached the door. Imagine my dismay — when, either
through accident, or by the desire of my fugitive compan-
ions to impede pursuit, I found it unexpectedly closed I
The two villains had now come up to me; close at
their heels were two more, probably my pursuers from
the upper apartments. Providentially the passage was,
(as I before said) extremely narrow, and as long as no
fire-arms were used, nor a general rush resorted to, I had
little doubt of being able to keep the ruffians at bay, qntil
I had hit upon the method of springing the latch, and so
winning my escape from the house.
While my left hand was employed in feeling the latch,
I made such good use of my right, as to keep my antag-
onists at a safe distance. The one who was nearest to
me was Fib Fakescrew ; he was armed with a weapon
exactly similar to my own. The whole passage rung
with oaths and threats. " Crash the cull — down with
mm — down with him before he dubs the jigger. Tip
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN 815
him the degan, Fib, fake him through and through ; if
he pikes, we shall all be scragged. " *
Hitherto, in the confusion, I had not been able to re-
call Job's instructions in opening the latch ; at last I re-
membered, and pressed the screw — the latch rose — I
opened the door, but not wide enough to escape through
the aperture. The ruffians saw mj escape at hand.
N
" Rush the b cove ! rush him I " cried the loud voice
of one behind ; and, at the word, Fib was thrown for-
wards upon the extended edge of my blade ; scarcely with
an effort of my. own arm the sword entered his bosom,
and he fell at my feet bathed in blood ; the motion which
the men thought would prove my destruction, became my
salvation ; staggered by the fall of their companion, they
gave way : I seized advantage of the momentary confu-
sion, threw open the door, and, mindful of Job's admo-
nition, turned to the rights and fled onwards with a rapid-
ity which baffled and mocked pursuit.
♦ "Kill the fellow, down with him before he opens the door.
Stab him through and through; if he gets off we shall all b«
hanged."
816 pelham; or.
CHAPTER LXXXIV.
Ille viam Becat ad naves socioBque revisit. — Yibgil.
The day had already dawned, but all was still and
lilent ; my footsteps smote the solitary pavement with a
itrange and unanswered sound. Nevertheless, though all
pursuit had long ceased, I still continued to run on me-
chanically, till, faint and breathless, I was forced to pause.
[ looked round, but could recognize nothing familiar in
the narrow and filthy streets ; even the names of them
were to me like an unknown language. After a brief
rest I renewed my wanderings, and at length came to an
Alley called River Lane ; the name did not deceive me,
but brought me, after a short walk, to the Thames ; there,
to my inexpressible joy, I discovered a solitary boatman,
and transported myself forthwith to the Whitehall-stairs.
Never, I ween, did gay gallant, in the decaying part
)f the season, arrive at those stairs for the sweet purpose
»f accompanying his own mistress, or another's wife, to
jreen Richmond or sunny Hampton, with more eager
and animated delight than I felt when rejecting the arm
of the rough boatman, and leaping on the well-known
stones. I hastened to that stand of "jarvies" which has
often been the hope and shelter of belated member of
(
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 311
St. Stephen's, or bewettcd fugitive from the Opera —
startled a sleeping coachman — flung myself into his ve-
hicle,— and descended at Mivart's.
The drowsy porter surveyed, and told me to be gone ;
I had forgotten, till then, my strange attire. " Pooh, ray
friend," said I, " may not Mr. Pelham go to a masquerade
as well as his betters ? " My voice and words undeceived
my Cerberus, and t was admitted ; I hastened to bed, and
no sooner had I laid my head on my pillow, than I fell
fast asleep. It must be confessed, that I had deserved
"tired Nature's sweet restorer."
I had not been above a couple of hours in the land of
dreams, when I was awakened by some one grasping my
arnii : the events of the past night were so fresh in my
memory, that I sprung up, as if the knife was at my throat
— my eyes opened upon the peaceful countenance of Mr.
Job Jonson.
" Thank Heaven, sir, you are safe I I had but a very
faint hope of finding you here when I came."
"Why," said I, rubbing my eyes, "it is very true tha€
I am safe, honest Job : but, I believe, I have few thanks
to give you for a circumstance so peculiarly agreeable to
myself It would have saved me much trouble, and your
worthy friend, Mr. Fib Fakescrew, some pain, if you had
left the door open — ^instead of shutting me up with your
cliih, as you are pleased to call it I "
"Tery true, sir," said Job, " and I am extremely sorry
at the accident ; it was Dawson who shut the door,
turough utter unconsciousness, though I told him espe-
27*
818 PELHAM; OR,
ciallj not to do it — the poor d^qg did not know whether
he was on his head or his heels."
" You have got him safe," said I, quickly.
"Ay, trust me for that, your honor. I have locked
him up at home while I came here to look for you."
" We will lose no time in transferring him to safer cus-
tody," said I, leaping out of bed ; " but be off to —
Street directly."
** Slow and sure, sir," answered Jonson. " It is for
you to do whatever you please, but my part of the busi-
ness is over. I shall sleep at Dover to-night, and break-
fast at Calais to-morrow. Perhaps it will not be very
inconvenient to your honor to furnish me with my first
quarter's annuity in advance, and to see that the rest is
duly paid into Lafitte's, at Paris, for the use of Captain
de Courcy. Where I shall live hereafter is at present
uncertain ; but I dare say there will be few corners except
old England and new England in which I shall not make
merry on your honor's bounty."
" Pooh I my good fellow," rejoined I, " never desert a
country to which your talents do such credit ; stay here,
and reform on your annuity. If ever I can accomplish
my own wishes, I will consult yours still farther ; for I
shall always think of your services with gratitude,—
though you did shut the door in my face."
"No, sir," replied Job — "life is a blessing I would
fain enjoy a few years longer; and, at present, my sojourn
in England would put it wofully in danger of * club law.^
Besides, I begin to think that a good character is a very
ADVENTURES OP A GENTLEMAN. 31^
agreeable thing, when not too troublesome : and, as 1
have none left in England, I may as well make the expe-
riment abroad. If your honor will call at the magis-
trate's, and take a warrant and an officer, for the purpose
of ridding me of my charge, at the very instant I see my
responsibility at an end, I will have the honor of bidding
you adieu "
" Well, as you please," said I. — " Curse your scoun-
drel's cosmetics 1 How the deuce am I ever to regain
my natural complexion I Look ye, sirrah I you have
painted me with a long wrinkle on the left side of my
mouth, big enough to engulf all the beauty I ever had.
Why, water seems to have no effect upon it I ''
" To be sure not, sir," said Job, calmly — " I should be
but a poor dauber, if my paints washed off- with a wet
sponge."
" Grant me patience I " cried I, in a real panic : " how,
in the name of Heaven, are they to wash off I Am I,
before I have reached my twenty-third year, to look like
a methodist parson on the wrong side of forty, you
rascal I "
"The latter question, your honor can best answer,"
returned Job. " With regard to the former, I have an
unguent here, if you will suffer me to apply it, which will
remove all other colors than those which nature has be-
stowed upon you."
With that. Job produced a small box ; and, after a
brief submission to his skill, I had the ineffable joy of
beholding myself restored to my original state. Never-
320 PELHAM; OR,
tbeless, my delight was somewhat checked by the loss of
my curls : I thanked Heaven, however, that the damage
had been sustained after Ellen's acceptation of my ad
dresses. A lover confined to one, should not be too
destructive, for fear of the consequences to the remaindef
of the female world : — compassion is ever due to the
fair sex.
My toilet being concluded, Jonson and I repaired to
the magistrate's. He waited at the corner of the street,
while I entered the house —
***T were vain to tell what shook the holy Man,
Who looked, not lovingly, at that divan."
Having summoned to my aid the redoubted Mr.
of mulberry-cheeked recollection, we entered a hackney-
coach, an4 drove to Jonson's lodgings, Job mounting
guard on the box.
" I think, sir," said Mr. , looking up at the man
of two virtues, *' that I have had the pleasure of seeing
that gentleman before."
" Very likely," said I ;" he is a young man greatly
about town."
When we had safely lodged Dawson (who seemed more
collected, and even courageous, than I had expected) in
the coach. Job beckoned me into a little parlor. I signed
liim a draft on my bankers for one hundred pounds —
though at that time it was like letting the last drop from
mv veins — and faithfully promised, should Dawson's evi-
dence procure the desired end (of which, indeed, there
was now no doubt,) that the annuity should be regularly
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN.' 321
paid, as he desired. We then took an affectionate fare-
well of each other.
"Adieu, sir I " said Job, " I depart, into a new world
— that of honest men ! "
"If so," said I, "adieu indeed I — for on this earth we
shall never meet again I "
We returned to Street. As I was descending
from the coach, a female, wrapped from head to foot in a
cloak, came eagerlj up to me, and seized me by the arm.
"For Gctd's sake," said she, in a low, hurried voice,
"come aside, and speak to me for a single moment."
Consigning Dawson to the sole charge of the officer, I
did as I was desired. When we had got some paces
down the street, the female stopped. Though she held
her veil closely drawn over her face, her voice and air
were not to be mistaken : I knew her at once. " Glan-
ville," said she, with great agitation, " Sir Reginald
Glanville ; tell me, is he in real danger ? " She stopped
short — she could say no more.
" I trust not I " said I, appearing not to recognize the
speaker.
" I trust not I " she repeated ; " is that all I *' And then
the passionate feelings of her sex overcoming every other
consideration, she seized me by the hand, and said — " Oh,
Mr. Pelham, for mercy's sake, tell me, is he in the power
of that villain Thornton ? You need disguise nothing
from me ; I know all the fatal history."
" Compose yourself, dear, dear Lady Roseville," said I,
f oothingly ; " for it is in vain any longer to affect not to
.-S2S pelham; or,
know you. Olanville is safe ; I have brought with me a
witness whose testimony must release him."
" G^od bless you, God bless you 1 " said Lady Roseville,
and she barst intd tears ; but she dried them directly, and
recovering some portion of that dignity which never long
forsakes' a woman of virtuous and educated mind, she
resumed, proudly, yet bitterly — " It is no ordinary motive,
no motive which you might reasonably impute to me, that
has brought me here. Sir Keginald Glanville can never
be anything more to me than a friend— but, of 9II friends,
the most known and valued. I learned from his servant
of his disappe^Lrance ; and my acquaintance with his secret
history enabled me to aceount for it in the most fearful
manner. In short, I — I — but explanations are idle now ;
you will never say that you have seen me here, Mr. Pel-
ham : you will endeavor even to forget it — farewell"
Lady Roseville, then drawing her cloak closely round
her, left me with a fleet and light step, and, turning the
corner of the street, disappeared.
I returned to my charge : I demanded an immediate
interview with the magistrate. " I have come," said I,
'' to redeem my pledge, and procure the acquittal of the
innocent." I then briefly related my adventures, only
concealing (according to my promise) all description of
my helpmate, Job ; and prepared the worthy magistrate
for the confession and testimony of Dawson. That un-
aappy man had just concluded his narration, when an
officer entered, and whispered the magistrate that Thorn-
ton was in waiting.
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 323
"Admit him," said Mr. , aloud. Thornton entered
irith his nsnal easy and swaggering air of effrontery : but
no sooner did he set his eyes upon Dawson, than a deadly
and withering change passed over his countenance. Daw-
Bon could not bridle the cowardly petulance of his spite.
" They know all, Thornton I '' said he, with a look of
triumph. The villain turned slowly from him to us, mut-
tering something we could not hear. He saw upon my
face, upon the magistrate's, that his doom was sealed :
his desperation gave him presence of mind, and he made
a sudden rush to the door ; — the officers in waiting seized
him. Why should I detail the rest of th^ scene ? He
was that day fully committed for trial, and Sir Reginald
Olanyille honorably released, and unhesitatingly ac-
quitted.
CHAPTER LXXXV.
Tin hymen qu'on souhaite
Entre lea gens comme nous est chose bientot-faite,
Je te Tenz ; me yeax-tu de mdme ? — Molierb.
So may he rest, his faults lie gently on him.
Shakspeaki.
The main interest of my adventures — ^if, indeed, I may
flatter myself that they ever contained any — is now over ;
the mystery is explained, the innocent acquitted, and the
guilty condemned. Moreover, all obstacles between the
marriage of the unworthy hero with the peerless heroine
8^4 pelham; or,
beiDg removed, it would be but an idle prolixity to linger
over the preliminary details of an orthodox and customary
courtship. Nor is it for me to dilate upon the exagger-
ated expressions of gratitude, in which the affectionate
heart of Glanville found vent for my fortunate exertions
on his behalf. He was not willing that any praise to
which I might be entitled for them, should be lost. He
narrated to Lady Glanville and Ellen my adventures with
the comrades of the worthy Job ; from the lips of the
mother, and the eyes of the dear sister, came my gweetest
addition to the good fortune which had made me the in-
strument of Q^lanville's safety and acquittal. I was not
condemned to a long protraction of that time, which, if
it be justly termed the happiest of our lives, we^ (viz. all
true lovers,) through that perversity common to human
nature, most ardently wish to terminate.
On that day month which saw Glanville's release, my
bridals were appointed. Reginald was even more eager
than myself in pressing for an early day ; firmly persuaded
that his end was rapidly approaching, his most prevailing
desire was to witness our union. This wish, and the in-
terest he took in our happiness, gave him an energy and
animation which impressed us with the deepest hopes for
his ultimate recovery ; and the fatal disease to which he
was a prey, nursed the fondness of our hearts by the bloom
of cheek, and brightness of eye, with which it veiled its
desolating and gathering progress.
From the eventful day on which I had seen Lady Rose-
ville, in Street, we had not met She had shut her-
ADVENTURES OP. A GENTLEMAN. 325
fielf ap in her splendid home, and the newspapers teem^
witli regret at the reported illness and certain seclusioii
of one whose feien and gayeties had furnished them with
their brightest pages. The only one admitted to her was
Ellen. To her, she had for some time made no secret of
her* attachment — and from her the daily news of Sir Regi-
nald's health was ascertained. Several times, when at a
late honr I left Glanville's apartments, I passed the figure
of a woman, closely muffled, and apparently watching be-
fore his windows — which, owing to the advance of sum-
mer, were never closed — to catch, perhaps, a view of his
room, or a passing glimpse of his emaciated and fading
figure. If that sad and lonely vigil was kept by her whom
I suspected, deep, indeed, and mighty was the love, which
could so humble the heart, and possess the spirit, of the
haughty and high-born Countess of Roseville I
I turn to a very different personage in this veritable
histoire. My father and mother were absent at Lady
H.'s when my marriage was fixed; to both of them I
wrote for their approbation of my choice. From Lady
Frances I received the answer which I subjoin : —
"My Dearest Son,
" Your father desires me to add his congratulations to
mine, upon the election you have made. I shall haster.
to London, to be present at the ceremony. Although
you must not be offended with me, if I say, that with
yojjr person, accomplishments, birth, and (above all) high
to?i, you might have chosen among the loftiest and wealth-
iest families in the country ; yet I am by no means dis-
IL — 28
^26 pelham; or,
pleased or disappointed with your future wife. To say
nothing of the antiquity of her name (the Glanvilles in-
termarried with the Pelhams, in the reign of Henry II.),
it is a great step to future distinction to marry a beauty,
especially one so celebrated as Miss Glanville — perhaps
it is among the surest ways to the cabipet The forty
thousand pounds which you say Miss Glanville is to re-
ceive, make, to be sure, but a slender income ; though,
when added to your own fortune, that sum in ready money
would have been a great addition to the Glen morris prop-
erty, if your uncle — I have no patience with him — had
not married again.
** However, you will lose no time in getting into the
House — at all events the capital will- insure your return
for a boroug^ and maintain you comfortably till you are
in the administration; when of course it matters very
little what your fortune may be — tradesmen will be too
happy to have your name in their books ; be sure, there-
fore, that the money is not tied up. Miss Glanville must
see that her own interest, as well as yours, is concerned
in your having the unfettered disposal of a fortune which,
if restricted, you would find it impossible to live upon.
Pray, how is Sir Reginald Glanville ? Is his cough as
bad as ever J By the by, how is his property entailed ?
"Will you order Stonor to have the house ready for
us on Friday, when I shall return home in time for din-
ner ? Let me again congratulate you, most sincerely, on
your choice. I always thought you had more common
sense as well as genius, than any young man I ever
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 32?
knew : you have shown it in this important step, do-
mestic happiness, my dearest Henry, ought to be pecu-
liarly sought for by every Englishman, however elevated
his station ; and when I reflect upon Miss Glanville's qual
ifications, and her celebrity as a beauty, I have no doubt
of yDur possessing the felicity you deserve. But be sure
that the fortune is not settled away from you ; poor Sir
Reginald is not (I believe) at all covetous or worldly, and
will not, therefore, insist upon the point.
" God blefis you, and grant you every happiness.
" Ever, my dear Henry,
" Your very affectionate Mother,
"F. Pelham."
" P. S. — I think it will be better to give out that Miss
Olanville has eighty thousand pounds. Be sure, there-
fore, that you do not contradict me."
The days, the weeks flew away. Ah, happy days ! yet
Id-) not regret while I recall you 1 He that loves much,
fea.j even in his best-founded hopes. What were the
antious longings for a treasure — in my yiew only, not in
my possession -^ to the deep joy of finding it forever my
own.
The day arrived — I was yet at my toilet, and Bedos in
the g"eatest confusion ; — (poor fellow, he was as happy
as m} self I) when a letter was brought me, stamped with
the fo/eign post mark. It was from the exemplary Job
Jonso'\, and though I did not even open it on that day,
yet it dhall be more favored by the reader — viz., if he
2t
828 PEL HAM; OR,
will not pass over, without reading, the following effu*
Biou : —
" Rue des Moulins, No. — , Paris.
"Honored Sir,
" I arrived in Paris safely, and reading in the English
papers the full success of our enterprise, as well as in the
Morning Post of the — th, your approaching marriage
with Miss Glanville, I cannot refrain from the liberty of
congratulating you upon both, as well as of reminding
you of the exact day on which the first quarter of my
annuity will be due : — it is the of ; for I pre-
sume your honor kindly made me a present of the draft
for one hundred pounds, in order to pay my travelling
expenses.
** I find that the boys are greatly incensed against me;
but as Dawson was too much bound by his oath to be-
tray a tittle against them, I trust I shall ultimately pacify
the club, and return to England. A true patriot, sir,
never loves to leave his native country. Even were I
compelled to visit Van Diemen*s Land, the ties of birth-
place would be so strong as to indnce me to seize the first
opportunity of returning ! I am not, your honor, very
fond of the French — they are an idle, frivolous, penu-
rious, poor nation. Only think, sir, the other day I saw
a gentleman of the most noble air secrete something at
a caf6, which I could not clearly discern : as he wrapped
it carefully in paper, before he placed it in his pocket, I
judged tha* it was a silver cream-ewer at least ; accord-
J
ADVENTUEES OP A GENTLEMAN. 32l
ingly, I followed him out, and from pure curiosity — I do
assure your honor, it was from no other motive — I trans-
ferred this purloined treasure to my own pocket. You
will imagine, sir, the interest with which I hastened to a
lonely spot in the Tuileries, and carefully taking out the
little packet, unfolded paper by paper, till I came to — yes,
sir, till I came to — fiv6 lumps of sugar ! Oh, the French
are a mean people — a very mean people — I hope I shall
soon be able to return to England. Meanwhile, I am
going into Holland, to see how those rich burghers spend
their time and theiB money. I suppose poor Dawson, as
well as the rascal Thornton, will be hung before you re
ceive this — ^they deserve it richly — it is such fellows wL^
disgrace the profession. He is but a very poor bungler
who is forced to cut throats as well as pockets. And
now, your honor, wishing you all happiness with your
lady,
** I beg to remain,
" Your very obedient humble servant,
** Ferdinand de Couroy, &c. &c '*
Struck with the joyous countenance of my honest valet,
as I took my gloves and hat from his hand, I could not
help wishing to bestow upon him a blessing similar to
that I was about to possess. " Bedos," said I, " Bedos,
my good fellow, you left your wife to come to me ; yon
shall not suffer by your fidelity: send for her — we will
find room for her in our future establishment."
The smiling face of the Frenchman underwent a rapid
28*
330 pelham; ob,
ehaugc. *Ma foi^''^ said he, in his own tongue ; "Mon*
sieur is too good. An excess of happiness hardens the
heart ; and so, for fear of forgetting my gratitude to
Providence, I will, with Monsieur's permission, suffer my
adjred wife to remain where she is."
After so pious a reply, I should have been worse than
wicked had I pressed the matter any farther.
I found all ready at Berkeley-square. Lady Glanville
is one of those good persons who think a marriage oat
of church is no marriage at all ; to church, therefore, we
went. Although Reginald was now so reduced that he
could .scarcely support the least fatigue, he insisted on
giving Ellen away. He was that morning, and had been
for the last two or three days, considerably better, and
our happiness seemed to grow less selfish in our increasing
hope of his recovery.
When we returned from church, our intention was to
set off immediately to Hall, a seat which I had
hired for our reception. On re-entering the house, Glan-
ville called me aside — I followed his infirm and tremulous
steps into a private apartment.
" Pelham," said he, " we shall never meet again I No
matter — you are now happy, and I shall shortly be so.
But there is one office I have yet to request from your
friendship ; when I am dead, let me be buried by her
side, and let one tombstone cover both."
I pressed his hand, and, with tears in my eyes, made
him the promise he required.
ADVENTUUES OF A GENTLEMAN. 33j
" It is enough," said he ; " I have no farther businesi
with life. God bless you, my friend, my brother ; do not
let a thought of me cloud your happiness."
He rose, and we turned to quit the room ; Glanvillo
was leaning on my arm ; when he hjad moved a few paces
towards the door, he stopped abruptly. Imagining that
the pause proceeded from pain or debility, I turned my
eyes upon his countenance — a fearful and convulsive
change was rapidly passing over it — his eyes stared
wildly upon vacancy.
"Merciful God — is it — can it be ? " he said, in a low,
inward tone.
Before I could speak, I felt his hand relax its grasp
upon my arm — he fell upon the floor — I raised him — a
smile of ineffable serenity and peace was upon his lips ;
his face was the face of an angel, but the spirit had passed
away I
/S32 pelham; OB.
CHAPTER LXXXVI.
Now hayeth good day, good men all,
Hayeth good day, yong and old;
Hayeth good day, both great and small.
And graunt merci a thousand fold!
Gif eyer I might full fain I wold,
Don ought that were unto your leye,
Christ keep you out of car^s cold.
For now 't is time to take my leaye. — Old Soni^.
Several months have now elapsed since my marriage.
I am living qnietly in the country, among my books, and
\)oking forward with calmness, rather than impatience,
to the time which shall again bring me before the world.
Marriage with me is not that sepnlchre of all hnman
lope and energy which it often is with others. I am not
more partial to my arm-chair, nor more averse to shav-
/ng, than of yore. I do not bound my prospects to the
dinner-hour, nor my projects to "migrations from the
blue bed to the brown." Matrimony found me ambi-
tious : it has not cured me of the passion : but it has
concentrated what was scattered, and determined what
was vague. If I am less anxious than formerly for the
reputation to be acquired in society, I am more eager for
honor in the world ; and instead of amusing my enemies
and the saloon, I trust yet to be useful to my friends and
to mankind.
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN 333
Whether this is a hope altogether vain and idle ; whe-
ther I have, in the self-conceit common to all men, (thou
wilt perchance add, peculiarly prominent in myself!) over-
rated both the power and the integrity of my mind (for the
one is bootless without the other,) neither I nor the world
can yet tell. "Time," says one of the fathers, "is the
only touchstone which distinguishes the prophet from the
boaster."
Meanwhile, gentle reader, during the two years which
I purpose devoting to solitude and study, I shall not be
80 occupied with my fields and folios, as to become un-
courteous to thee. If ever thou hast known me in the city,
I give thee a hearty invitation to come and visit me in the
country. I promise thee that my wines and viands shall
not disgrace the companion of Guloseton ; nor my con-
versation be much duller than my book. I will compli-
ment thee on thy horses, — thou shalt congratulate me
upon my wife. Over old wine we will talk over new
events ; and, if we flag at the latter, why, we will make
ourselves amends with the former. In short, if thou art
neither very silly nor very wise, it shall be thine own fault
if we are not excellent friends.
I feel that it would be but poor courtesy in me, after
having kept company with Lord Vincent through the
tedious journey of these pages, to dismiss him now with-
out one word of valediction. May he, in the political
course he has adopted, find all the admiration which his
talents deserve; and if ever we meet as foes, let oar
E34 PEL ham; or,
heaviest weapon be a quotation, and Our bitterest yen*
geance a jest.
Lord Guloseton regularly corresponds with me, and
his last letter contained a promise to visit me in the
course of the month, in order to recover his appetite
(which has been much relaxed of late) by the country
air.
My uncle wrote to me, three weeks since, announcing
the death of the infant Lady Glenmorris had brought
him. Sincerely do I wish that his loss may be supplied.
I have already sufficient fortune for my wants, and suffi-
cient hope for my desires.
Thornton died as he had lived — the reprobate end the
ruffian. ** Pooh," said he, in his quaint brutality, to the
worthy clergyman who attended his last moments with
more zeal than success ; " Pooh, what 's the difference
between gospel and go — spell ? we agree like a bell and
its clapper — ^you 're prating while I 'm hanging, ^^
Dawson died in prison, penitent and in peace. Cow-
ardice;^ which spoils the honest man, often redeems the
knave.
From Lord Dawton T have received a letter, request-
ing me to accept a borough (in his gift), just vacated.
It is a pity that generosity — such a prodigal to those
who do not want it — should often be such a niggard to
those who do. I need not specify my answer. I hope
yet to teach Lord Dawton, that to forgive the minister
is not to forget the affront. Meanwhile, I am content to
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN 336
bnry myself in my retreat, with my mute teachers of logic
and legislature, in order, hereafter, to justify his lordship's
good opinion of my abilities. Farewell, Brutus, we shah
meet at Philippi I
It is some months since Lady Roseville left England ;
the last news we received of her, informed us that she
was living at Sienna, in utter seclusion, and very infirm
health.
The day drags thro^. though storms keep out the sun,
And thus the heart will break, yet brokeuly live on."
Poor Lady Glanville ! the mother of one so beautiful,
so gifted, and so lost. What can I say of her which
''you, and you, and you " all who are parents, can-
not feel, a thousand times more acutely, in those recesses
of the heart too deep for Tords or tears. There are yet
many hours in which I find the sister of the departed in
grief that even her husband cannot console : and I
/ my friend, my brother, have I forgotten thee in
death ? I lay down the pen, I turn from my employment*
— thy dog is at my feet, and looking at me, as if con-
iscious of my thoughts, with an eye almost as tearful as
my own.
But it is not thus that I will part from my Reader ;
our greeting was not in sorrow, neither shall be our
adieus. For thee, who hast gone with me through the
motley course of my confessions, I would fain trust that
1 have sometimes hinted at thy instruction, when only
33d pelham; or,
appearing to strive for thy amusement. Bat on this I
will not dwell; for the moral insisted upon often loses
its effect ; and all that I will venture to hope is, that I
have opened to thee one true, and not utterly hackneyed,
page in the various and mighty volume of mankind. In
this busy and restless world I have not been a vague
speculator, nor an idle actor. While all around me were
vigilant, I have not laid me down to sleep — even for the
luxury of a poet's dream. Like the school-boy, I hav©
considered study as study, but action as delight.
Nevertheless, whatever I have seen, or heard, or felt,
has been treasured in my memory, and brooded over by
my thoughts. I now plaqe the result before you —
''Sicut mens est mos,
Neecio quid meditans nugarum;
but not perhaps,
"totuB in illis."*
•
Whatever society — whether in a higher or lower grade
— I have portrayed, my sketches have been taken rather
as a witness than a copyist ; for I have never shunned
that circle, nor that individual, which presented life in *
fresh view, or man in a new relation. It is right, how*
ever, that I should add, that as I have not wished to be
an individual satirist, rather than a general observer, I
have occasionally, in the subordinate characters (such as
* *< According to mj custom, meditating, I scarcely know wiiat
of trifles ; but not, perhaps, wholly wrapt in them."
ADVENTUBSS OF A GENTLEMAN. 337
Rasselton and Gordon), taken oaly the ontline from truth,
and filled np the colors at my leisure and my will.^
With regard to myself I have been more candid. I
have not only shown — non pared manu — my faults, but
(grant that this is a much rarer exposure) mj foibles;
. and, in my anxiety for your entertainment, I have not
grudged you the pleasure of a laugh — even at my own
expense. Forgive me, then, if I am not a fashionable
hero — forgive me if I have not wept over a "blighted
spiritf^^ nor boasted of a " British heart; " and allow that
a man who, in these days of alternate Werters and Wor-
thies, is neither the one nor the other, is, at least, a
novelty in print, though, I fear, common enough in life.
And now, my kind reader, having remembered the pro-
* May the Author, as well as the Hero, be permitted, upon this
point, to solicit attention and belief. In all the lesser characters,
of which the firtt idea was taken from iite, especially those referred
to in the text, he has, for reasons perhaps obvious enough without
the tedium of recital, purposely introduced sufficient variation and
addition to remove, in his own opinion, the odium either of a copy
or of a caricature. The Author thinks it the more necessary in the
present edition to insist upon this, with all honest and sincere
earnestness, because in the first it was too much the custom of
criticism to judge of his sketches from a resemblance to some sup-
posed originals, and not from adherence to that sole source of all
legitimate imitation — Nature ; — Nature as exhibited in the general
mass, not in the isolated instance. It is the duty of the novelist
rather to abstract than to copy : — all humors — all individual pecu-
liarities are his appropriate and fair materials: not so are the
humorist and the individual! Observation should resemble the
eastern bird, and, while it nourishes itself upon the suction of ii
thousand flowerS; never be seen to settle upon one I
II —29
338
P£LHAm; oB|
ferb, and in saying one word to thee having said two for
myself, I will no longer detain thee. Whatever Vioa
mayest think of me and my thousand faults, both as an
author and a man, believe me it is with a sincere and
affectionate wish for the accomplishment of my parting
fordSy that I bid thee — fareaoellJ
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